#I had this title before I knew about the song but I think it fits
Photo
SANCTUARY
Leah x Fatin (The Wilds)
#leatin#leah x fatin#fatin jadmani#leah rilke#the wilds#holy shit I finished it#hopefully I did them justice#I'm really happy with how it turned out knowing I usually give up halfway through#tbh there were days where i couldn't draw due to stress from work#but damn the hold these two have on me lol#'Sanctuary' by Joji#I had this title before I knew about the song but I think it fits
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
「 jealousy, jealously 」
eddie munson x henderson!fem reader
summary: you were a part of hellfire long before your brother and his friends got to high school, yet they fit right into the club while you get pushed aside.
requested: no
word count: 6.4k
warnings: light angst, jealousy, brief arguing/raised voices, lots of fluff, kissing, fake gagging, few curse words
a/n: i apparently can’t write short fics for eddie, but i don’t think anyone is complaining about it. plus, i think the fics are freaking adorable & i’m highkey kinda proud of them. so i hope you continue enjoying them, as i’ve got plenty of ideas for him with more coming daily. if you’ve got an idea you’d like done (for eddie or any other st character) feel free to send it my way & i’ll give it a go. also, i couldn’t think of a better title than this, but the actual fic has no purposeful inpsiration from the olivia rodrigo song. i hope you enjoy it regardless! Xx
Part 2 out now!
You groan as you see your brother and his friends make their way through the cafeteria towards you. Knowing it was their first day of high school, you had no doubt they’d try to sit with you. It’s not that you don’t want them to, but you’re terrified that they’ll embarrass you in front of your long-standing crush and dungeon master.
It had been a few months into your freshman year of high school when the small group of friends you’d found yourself in started ranting about how weird and creepy the Hellfire club - and their leader, Eddie Munson - was. You didn’t quite hold the same opinions, though, since you’d been playing the game for a few years by then. In fact, you had only recently given it up when the friend you played with moved towns.
It was during one of your free periods when their ranting became a bit annoying to you. You had started correcting and fact-checking them, forgetting that Eddie shared the study hall with you. You never even gave it a thought that he could hear the four of you talking until he stopped you at your locker after that period - the day, luckily, being over.
He wanted to know how you knew so much about the game which is when you admitted you had played. Of course that knowledge completely floored him.
When he was able to pull himself back together, though, he offered for you to join them at lunch the following day to meet the group and see if you wanted to become their newest member. You agreed, and within the week found yourself a permanent part of hellfire with your own shirt and everything.
It’s been two and a half years since then and you were still a part of the group, happily devoting your Thursday evenings to play the game. Within these past couple years and all the Thursdays you’ve spent in his presence, though, you found yourself falling hard for Eddie.
It’s nearly impossible not to when he’s so charismatic and funny. Not to mention how kind, passionate, and beautiful he is. You’d swear he was a fucking angel, regardless of the image he tries to portray.
“Y/n! Can we sit here with you? Please?” You hear your brother almost beg, catching your attention as your heart starts to race.
You’ve never mentioned to the group that you have a younger brother, especially not a younger brother that also plays D&D. You knew they’d want to be introduced to him, and you fear that he'd slowly come to replace you in the group.
“Who’re these kids?” Eddie questions, hands clasped in front of his face as he looks between you and the three younger boys standing behind you.
“Uh, Dustin, here, is my brother.” You start, nodding towards him as he smiles.
“A-and these are his friends, Mike and Lucas.”
“A young Henderson…hmm? Tell me, do you guys play?” Eddie asks the three boys, catching them off guard, their mouths opening and closing as they figure out how to answer.
“They do. They’ve been playing for a few years.” You answer for them, motioning for them to just sit down.
“Thank you.” Mike and Lucas mouth, having sat on the same side of the table as you with Dustin.
You sigh, smiling lightly as you nod to them. Of course you don’t want to upset Eddie, but you’re also not going to leave your brother and his friends to fend for themselves.
Wanting to move on, you take a bite of your lunch, hoping that Eddie leaves the topic of the boys joining you alone. Having known him for three years, though, you should know that he can’t.
“You’ve never mentioned having a brother, Henderson.” He comments, and you can practically feel his eyes on you as you stare at your food.
“The topic never really came up.”
“Not even when I’ve mentioned wanting to find new members?” He lightly smirks, curious as to why you’d keep such a thing secret.
Surely you realize how great having a brother that plays D&D is? Within the year most of you will be graduating, and he needs someone to pass the dungeon master title on to. Your younger brother and his friends just starting high school couldn’t be a better option.
“Figured you’d find him and his friends soon enough anyways.” you comment, still not looking up to the curly-haired adonis.
“Hmm, well they’ve saved me the work of searching them out by coming over here. Welcome to hellfire, boys.”
“Wait, you’re just letting them join?” Gareth questions.
“Yeah. You’ve seen Henderson play. If they know her then they’ve got to be good.” Eddie smiles, making your cheeks flush.
“They’re good, but not on my account.” You mumble.
“Nonsense. Still can’t believe you wouldn’t tell us about them before now, though.”
“How come you haven’t, y/n? I mean, you talk about them all the time.” Dustin asks, before taking a bite of his food.
At his statement, the rest of the group seem to perk up, curious to know what you say about each of them.
“I do not. I’ve only mentioned the club a few times.” You huff, feeling your cheeks heat up a bit more.
“Only a few times to mom and I, but I hear you on the phone with your friend talking about them every week.”
“First off, why’re you even listening to me on the phone? Secondly, the only reason I talk about the club is because I’m updating her on my life.”
“Got a rather boring life then.” Dustin quips and you simply gawk at him, not believing him right now as a few surprised chuckles leave the rest of the boys.
“Shut up and eat, Dustin. No one asked for your input.”
You watch him shrug before turning to Mike and Lucas while you stick to staring at your food, feeling the group's eyes on you. It’s bad enough you’re the only girl in the group, you didn’t need them to know you talk about them on a weekly basis.
Little do you realize that Eddie can’t help but find himself smiling at this new side of you. He’s been intrigued by you ever since he first heard you correcting your friends back in your freshman year. He couldn’t believe that such a beautiful girl would play the game he loved.
Of course, after watching you play and just spending time with you during lunch, he’s found himself crushing on you, even if you still remained a bit of a mystery to him. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you of his feelings, though. Not once in the three years he’s known you.
Hearing that you talk about the club, though, makes his heart race. You really enjoy their company so much that you’d talk about them to a friend? It’s insane to him, and yet it makes him feel giddy. He can’t help but wonder what you’ve said - about the club or about him.
~.~
“Lauren, I’m telling you! For as long as I’ve been a part of the club, my brother joins and suddenly that’s all they care about. They all like my brother and his friends better than me.” You sigh, turning onto your back as you stare at the ceiling.
“I highly doubt that, y/n. I’m sure it’s just that your brother and his friends are still new.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Laur. I mean, it’s not like I really bring anything to the group.”
“Y/n, you’re the only girl.”
“That doesn’t mean anything though.” You almost whine.
You hate to admit it, but you’ve been feeling left out of the club ever since your brother and his friends joined a few months ago. You had the feeling that this would happen, even though you hoped it wouldn’t.
It’s not like you really bring anything to the group, though, now that you’ve introduced Dustin, Lucas, and Mike to the club. Your character isn’t super powerful or helpful or anything. You’re not the best roller. You’re just there...seemingly wasting space.
“Pretty sure it does. I mean, the way you’ve talked about…what’s his name, Eddie?”
“What about him?”
“The way you’ve talked about him, it sounds like he likes you.”
“No. No, he doesn’t. I’m sure of that. He barely talks to me.” You sigh, rolling over onto your stomach as you bury your head into the pillows.
“Y/n, hon, boys are terrible at talking to the girls they like!” Lauren laughs, and you know she’s shaking her head at you.
“Not Eddie. He usually can’t stop flirting, and yet he doesn’t flirt with me. I don’t even think he’s ever actually called me by my name, Laur. I’m just...Henderson to him.”
“Maybe you make him nervous.”
“Me? Make him nervous? Laur, you’ve lost your mind!” You scoff, knowing you could never make a guy nervous.
Guys don’t even notice you, for crying out loud. How can you make them nervous?
“I don’t make guys nervous. Guys don’t even notice me, Laur. I’m not you.”
“Okay, now you’re just being down on yourself and I’m not going to have that. If this Eddie guy can’t see how fucking amazing you are, then he just doesn’t deserve you. Alright?”
“Not alright. I want him to like me. Like, a lot.” You pout.
“I’m telling you he does. If I’m wrong then I’ll drive myself down there and let you have free go at me. How’s that?”
“You know I’d never do that to you, but I’m telling you that you’re wrong.”
“Sure, I like him, but I know it’s never going to happen.” You sigh, twirling the cord as you stare at your bedspread, still laying on your stomach.
“What’s never going to happen?” You hear Dustin ask, making you jump and drop the phone.
“Dustin, get out of my room!”
“But it’s time to go! We’re going to be late if we don’t leave, y/n, and I don’t want to upset Eddie by being late.” He rambles, and all you can do is roll your eyes.
“Fine. Go get in the car. I’ll be right down.”
“Don’t forget that we’re picking up Mike and Lucas. And don’t forget your folder!”
“I won’t. Now go.” You groan, rolling back onto your stomach and grabbing the phone.
“I’m sorry, Laur. I’ve got to go.”
“Time to go see your man, huh?” She teases and you roll your eyes, attempting to fight back a blush.
“He’s not my man. Never will be. I’ll call you later, though, okay?”
“You better! Love you.”
With a ‘love you’ of your own you hang up the phone and roll off of your bed. Grabbing your backpack and a sweater, you slip your shoes on before grabbing your keys and leaving the room.
You really kind of hope tonight’s game goes by quickly, not wanting to be in Eddie’s presence longer than necessary.
~.~
Eddie can’t help but frown as he watches you tonight. He’s been noticing how you’ve been seeming more and more down, almost seeming to pull into yourself and away from the group this past month.
You’ve been quiet lately, which isn’t terribly out of character for you, but it seems different than normal. You don’t quite have that same brightness to you that Eddie’s come to look forward to each day.
“Henderson, is everything alright?”
At his voice you’re pulled from your thoughts, turning to look at the beautiful, curly-haired man that makes your heart race and palms sweat.
“Mhm. Fine.” You hum, nodding and sending a small smile in his direction.
“You’re sure?”
“Mhm.”
As you hum, you turn your attention back to your clasped hands on the table as you zone back out to Dustin and the rest of the group chattering around you.
“Little Henderson, is something up with your sister?” you hear Eddie question as he turns his attention to your brother.
“Unbelievable.” You huff, shaking your head and crossing your arms as you slump back in your chair.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Never mind.” You mumble, staring at the table in front of you as you chew on the inside of your cheek.
All you did was zone out for a moment. You don’t understand why he’d have to ask Dustin what’s wrong when that’s all you did. It’s not like he’s ever actually taken notice of your emotions before to know that something is wrong.
“I think she’s upset about a guy.” Dustin speaks up after a moment and you can’t help but scowl at him, brows furrowed in shocked anger.
“A guy?” Eddie questions, almost seeming surprised.
“Yeah.”
“It’s not about a guy, Dustin. Maybe try keeping your head out of my business.” You retort, jaw tensing in anger.
“But you were saying something about liking someone and how it’s not going to happen.”
“And I told you to stop listening in on me when I’m on the phone.”
“Then what’s wrong?” Dustin questions, seeming like he genuinely wants to know which irritates you slightly. Why does he have to be so caring when you’re trying to be angry with him?
“Doesn’t matter.” you state, wanting the conversation to be over.
“Yes, it does.”
“If I wanted to tell you, Dustin, I would. Just leave it.”
“G-guys, can we…can we get playing again?” You hear Mike stutter out and you let out a deep breath.
“Yeah. Sorry for getting off topic. Let’s play.”
“Are you going to be alright to play?” Eddie questions, looking you over, seemingly studying your body language.
He’s never seen you upset before, and he can’t help but wonder what’s going on. It’s not like you to be angry and short with others. Not when he’s always seen you as the happy, upbeat one of the group.
Could it be a guy like Dustin suggested? Or is it just that you’re not feeling well? Either way he can’t help but want to know.
“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this going again.” you answer, not bothering to look at anyone but rather as the table and your hands.
“Henderson-“ Eddie starts, but you quickly cut him off, taking him by surprise at the sheer frustration coming from you.
“Do you not want me playing right now? I said I’ll be fine. Believe me, will you?”
“Alright. Where were we?”
You let out a breath as you all slowly get back to the game, although you can feel the tenseness of the air still lingering. Attempting to ignore it, you force yourself to focus on what Eddie and everyone else is saying, hoping to god the campaign isn’t much longer.
~.~
Taking your seat at the lunch table, you feel Gareth and Jeff’s eyes on you. It’s like they’re not sure how to talk to you, almost afraid that you’re still as touchy as you were last night during the game.
“I’m not going to bite your heads off, you know.” You comment, not bothering to look up at them as you shove a forkful of food into your mouth.
“You’re sure?” Gareth questions, eyes wider than normal as he still seems cautious.
“Mhm. I just wasn’t feeling great last night.”
“Okay. You’ve just…never been like this.” He states and you know he’s not wrong. Ever since you first joined the club you’ve been quiet and almost demure, not wanting to create any issues.
You shrug, acknowledging his statement, but leave it unanswered. There’s not really anything to say to that. Not when the entire reason for your irritation is kind of embarrassing and childish.
The two of them don’t seem to mind though, going back to talking amongst themselves as you eat in silence, waiting for everyone else to join the table.
It’s not like anything really changes once everyone is there. They all chat amongst themselves while you keep to yourself, only giving short replies when talked to. You simply eat in silence as you let yourself fall into your thoughts, not wanting to make the atmosphere tense like you had last night.
No one seems to mind, though. At least you don’t think they do. Not until Eddie slides into the empty desk next to yours in your shared study hall at the end of the day.
“Hey, Henderson.” He greets, voice lowered so as to not get yelled at by the teacher or to potentially get on your bad side.
“Hey.”
“What’s…what’s going on lately?”
“What do y’mean?”
“You’ve been quieter than usual. Not as happy either.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about Eddie.” You mumble, not wanting to share what’s been going on.
“No? See, I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Something’s bothering you.”
“So what if there is? I’m not telling you unless I want to.”
At your reply, Eddie simply sighs, and you can’t help but feel a little rude. It’s not like he’s done anything, it’s just your stupid thoughts and feelings getting in the way.
“Alright then. I’m not going to push for an answer. I just...I need to know that whatever it is won’t be interfering with the campaign.”
“It won’t be. Not from here on out.”
“Here on out?”
“I’m quitting the club. Been thinking about it for a while now.” You admit, watching his face fall at your words.
“Henderson-“
“It’s y/n, Eddie.“
As the words leave your lips, the bell rings to signal that the day is finally over. Without hesitating a second, you’re up from your seat and walking away, leaving Eddie confused and scrambling to catch up to you.
“Y/n?” He calls, chasing you from the classroom and towards the doors, not caring that he needed to stop at his locker.
You see Dustin, Lucas, and Mike waiting by the trash can at the edge of the parking lot, and you sigh. You really can’t wait to get home.
“Y/n?! What’s brought this on? Why do you wanna leave the club?” Eddie calls as he continues to follow you towards the parking lot.
“You’re leaving hellfire?” Dustin questions, him and the other two boys having heard Eddie.
“Just get in the car, Dustin.”
“But you’re leaving hellfire?! You can’t just do that!”
“Exactly! Why’re you trying to leave?” Eddie questions, panting lightly as he finally catches up to you at your car.
“I’m not trying to leave, Eddie. I am leaving. I don’t want to be a part of it anymore. Sorry.”
“No. You can’t just leave. We haven’t finished the campaign yet.”
“You’ll figure out how to continue it without me, I’m sure.”
Of course he’d just be upset about the game getting messed up and not about you actually leaving. Why would he care when he’s still got Little Henderson there?
“I’ll return my shirt next week.” You state, moving to get into the car.
“Th-that’s not necessary. Hold onto the shirt. Keep it for memory’s sake, I mean.”
“If that’s what you want.”
Eddie nods, watching you, seeming as if he wants to say something else but he can’t bring himself to.
“Is that everything?” You question, wanting nothing more than to leave.
“Yeah...Yeah, I guess. I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah. See you around. Come on now, Dustin.”
“You two need rides?” You question Mike and Lucas, almost seeming to ignore Eddie as you get in the car. They shake their heads and you nod, closing your door as you wait for Dustin to do the same.
Soon as he does, you’re putting the car in reverse and backing out as you had already started it. You really didn’t want to be there any longer than you already had been.
As you pull out of the parking lot, though, you can feel Dustin wanting to ask questions, but he seems scared to anger you, so he stays quiet. His questions simply swirling around his head, instead.
~.~
“Wait, you did what now?!” Lauren questions, almost screaming into the receiver.
“I quit the club. I couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.”
“But you enjoyed it.”
“I enjoyed it when I hadn’t been shoved to the background. I enjoyed it when I actually felt like a part of the club.”
“So talk to them? You don’t just quit something because it stopped being fun.”
“I think that’s precisely what you do when a club stops being fun, Laur. Besides, it’s not like they miss me.” You huff, pulling your feet towards your body as you lay on your stomach, softly kicking them in the air.
It’s been just about a month since you quit the club, and while it saddens you a little, you’ve also felt the tiniest bit of relief. You don’t have to try so hard to keep your crush on Eddie hidden anymore. You don’t have to spend every lunch period listening to the guys talk about whatever it is they do while you sit to the side. You don’t have to feel like the outcast in the group of outcasts.
Sure you miss playing the game, but it’s not the end of the world. You’ve found other things to keep yourself preoccupied. Mostly just listening to music and doing your homework, but you’ve found yourself picking up art as a hobby as the days dragged on, slowly starting to fill and old sketchbook you’ve had lying around.
~.~
“It’s still so weird that y/n isn’t here.” Gareth comments as the boys watch you sit at a different table once again. They don’t know why, but they keep hoping this has just been some kind of nightmare and that any day you’ll actually sit back down with them. It just doesn’t make sense why you’d leave them all so abruptly.
“Yeah. It is.” Jeff agrees, sighing as they see a smile form on your face with a laugh falling out right after. It’s been way too long since any of them have seen you like this, and it kind of hurts.
“She still wears her shirt a lot.” Dustin informs, looking at the older boys - Eddie included - as they watch you.
“She does?” Eddie questions, the bit of knowledge somehow lifting him up a little.
He hated hearing you say you were quitting, and he hated it even more when Monday came around the week after and you didn’t sit with them. Nearly three years you had sat by his side and suddenly you weren’t there anymore. It felt beyond wrong, but he didn’t know what to do to fix it, if there even was anything that he could do.
“Yeah. She seems to wear it all the time now. I’m honestly not sure when the last time was that she didn’t wear it.”
Eddie nods, smiling lightly at the thought. He can’t help but wonder if there’s anything different he could have done to keep you from leaving. Was it something he had said? Or done? Was it just him?
“She’s been acting weird since she left. I heard her on the phone the other day-“
“You really should stop that, Dustin.” Eddie pipes up, but the younger boy doesn’t seem to hear.
“She said something about how she couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine after mentioning to her friend that she quit.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never known her to pretend about anything. I don’t know what she was talking about.”
“Because then she said something about enjoying the club when she felt like a part of it? She’s always been a part of it though.” Dustin continues, frowning as he eats his food.
He may not understand what you were talking about, but Eddie has a sinking feeling that he does. He really hopes he’s wrong though.
He doesn’t want to admit that he was giving your brother and his friends more attention than he’s ever really gave you. It’s not that they’re better than you in any way, honestly. It’s just that they’re boys.
He’s always hesitated in giving you attention during meetings or at lunch, because he didn’t want anyone to catch onto the crush he has on you. He was afraid that if Gareth or Jeff knew he liked you, that it’d make the atmosphere awkward.
Even by keeping you at a distance, though, the two guys picked up on Eddie’s crush. It’s not in his character to be quiet or reserved in the slightest, so when they noticed how he constrained himself in conversation with you, they knew something was up.
Still, Eddie could never allow himself to act the same way with you like he does with Gareth and Jeff, and now your brother and his friends. He wanted you to like him, so he kept himself from being sarcastic and outspoken with you. Hearing Dustin talk though, Eddie has the suspicion that his plan may have backfired.
“Your sister still picks you up from the meetings, doesn’t she?” Eddie questions, already planning out what he wants to say to you when he can get you aside for a moment.
“No. Nancy’s been dropping me off or I’ve just been riding my bike.”
“I’ll be driving you home tonight then.”
“O-okay?!”
Eddie chuckles lightly at Dustin’s excitement, but he never takes his eyes off of you across the cafeteria. He needs to talk to you, and he’s hoping that tonight he can do just that.
~.~
“You know it ain’t easy, running out of thrills. You know it ain’t easy when you don’t know what you want.”
You hum, laying on your bed as you listen to the drums, guitar, and vocals of Europe fill your room.
“What do you want?” You question, mirroring the song, your foot tapping against your bedspread as you close your eyes.
“Woah-oh-oh, you want to rock now, rock the night, ‘til early in the morning light. Rock now, rock the night.”
“Woah-oh, woah-oh, yeah!” You sing, smiling lightly.
It’s been awhile since you’ve been able to just relax and enjoy listening to your music without worrying about homework or being late to hellfire. One of the plus sides of quitting the club - you finally get time just for yourself.
Hearing a knock on your door, you hum loud enough to acknowledge whoever is at the door.
“y/n? You’ve got a visitor.” Dustin calls, gently opening your door.
“Who?” You question, sitting up on your bed, nodding as Eddie comes into view behind Dustin.
“Oh…hi.”
“Hi. I-is it alright if I come in?” He questions, pausing in your doorway.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
As he makes his way inside, you situate yourself in your bed so you’re comfortably sitting up.
“Do you…”
At Eddie’s voice, you look up to see him questioning you about your door, going to close it before swinging it open.
“You can close it if you want. I don’t care.”
He nods, softly shoving the door to close it, not quite giving it enough force to close all the way so there’s a little crack left open.
“So what’re you doing here?” You question him, watching him as he looks around, seeming a bit out of place with your soft white walls and contradicting decor.
While he may fit into the plethora of rock band posters covering your walls and the many records and cassettes you’ve got laying around, he doesn’t fit in with the florals and stuffed animals you’ve got elsewhere in your room.
“I, uh, I was hoping we could talk.”
“About what?”
You can’t help but chuckle as he spots the bralette hanging out of your dresser, you having been too lazy to tuck it back in earlier, and seems to pale in horror. For seeming so confident and cocky, he sure doesn’t look it being in a girl’s room.
“You can sit, you know.” You offer, motioning to the chair you’ve got in the corner of your room.
“Yeah, okay.” He mumbles, taking a few steps over towards the chair before sitting on the edge of the seat.
You watch as he takes in your room, fidgeting with his hands and rings as he does so. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was nervous to be here.
“What did you want to talk about?”
“Uh, well, w-we really miss you being in the club. G-gareth, Jeff, and I. I mean, s-so do the younger ones, but…”
“But you three miss me more?” You question, eyebrow cocking in disbelief.
“Well, yeah…yeah.”
“Okay.” You deadpan, not sure what he wants in reply to that. It’s nice to hear that they miss you, but it doesn’t really change anything.
A brief moment passes where you watch Eddie, waiting for him to say something else. Taking in his mannerisms and body language, you can’t remember a time when Eddie’s ever looked so nervous and unsure of himself.
“D-dustin was saying you felt left out? Of the club?” Eddie clarifies, drawing up just enough courage to look at you.
“He was listening to me on the phone again, wasn’t he?”
“Y-yeah. I tried telling him to stop, but I don’t think he heard me.” he sighs, chuckling lightly in nerves as you shake your head.
“I don’t think he’ll ever stop, if I’m honest. He’ll be traumatized one day or another I’m sure.” You laugh, shaking your head at the thought as you smile.
“It’s true though? You…you felt left out?”
“Yeah. It’s dumb, I know, but you guys took so easily to Dustin, Lucas, and Mike.”
“I get it, they’re great kids, and they play D&D…but it’s like they didn’t even have to try to fit into the group.” You sigh, knowing it’s about time you share at least part of the problem.
“No. No, it’s not dumb. I’m sorry we made you - I made you - feel that way.” Eddie sighs, catching your line of sight in his, wanting you to realize how sincere he’s being.
He never wanted to make you feel left out, it’s just his stupid feelings that got in the way.
“It’s fine. It doesn’t matter anymore, anyways.”
“It does matter, though. We’d - I’d - really like you to join the group again. It’s not the same without you there, y/n.”
“I’m sorry. I just, I really don’t think joining again would be good, though.” You admit, knowing that if you joined again you’d still just be upset that nothing will ever come from your crush on him.
“How come? I-is there something else that’s been bothering you about the club? I want you to feel welcome.”
“No. No, It’s nothing about the club, Eddie. There’s just a lot of things going on personally that’d make it hard.”
“That guy issue?”
“What?”
“Is it anything to do with that guy issue Dustin mentioned?” Eddie questions, and you can’t help but gawk at him.
“Does he not like you playing or something?”
“What? No.” you answer, shaking your head incredulously, wondering how Eddie got it into his head that you’d ever be wanted by someone. Has he never actually watched how other guys interact with you?
“Then what is it? Why won’t you come back to the club?”
“It doesn’t matter. I just...can’t. It’s better if I let you guys enjoy it yourselves.”
“It’s not better, though. We all want you back, y/n.”
“I’m sorry.” You sigh, not knowing what else you can say.
A moment passes where neither of you say anything and you start to think that maybe you’re done talking. Before you can say anything of the sort though, Eddie’s asking a question.
“Tell me, is there anything I can do? Anything that would make you want to come back?”
“No…no, there’s nothing you could do, eddie, I promise y-“
“There must be.” He argues, wanting nothing more than to find something he can do to get you to come back.
He misses you more than he thought possible, and he just needs there to be something - anything - he can do.
“There’s not, though.”
“How come?”
“What?”
“How come there’s nothing I can do? Are you just that dead set on not coming back? Even though we all miss you?”
“If I could, trust me that I would join the group again. I just, I can’t right now, Eddie. I’m sor-“
“Why can’t you?”
“Because…because of you.” You sigh, fed up with him pushing for an answer.
“Me?”
“You, Eddie. I can’t come back because of you. Because if I did then I’d just get all upset again because my heart is dumb and doesn’t know how to listen.”
“What do you mean?”
You sigh, taking a deep breath as you look at him. You can’t seriously be getting ready to tell him this, but you are. You don’t see any other option right now.
“I like you, Eddie.” You sigh, fidgeting with your fingers.
“I like you, but you don’t like me. I mean, it’s obvious between you never talking to me or looking at me and how you’ve always called me Hender-“
You gasp, moaning lightly as you get cut off by a pair of lips on yours. Eddie was kissing you to shut you up.
At the realization you can’t help but panic, not understanding why he’d do this when he doesn’t like you.
“Eddie!”
“Fuck! I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just, you were rambling and saying I didn’t like you but I do! I do. I like y-“
It’s his turn to gasp and groan into the kiss as you pull him to your lips, one hand tightly grasped in the front of his shirt while the other drapes around his shoulders, holding him close to you.
As he realizes what’s happening, he relaxes into the kiss, his one hand coming up to caress your cheek as the other holds himself up on the bed.
It’s not until you’re both out of breath and gasping for air do you actually pull away from each other, your hand relaxing against his chest as he lowers his from your cheek.
“Woah.” He sighs, trying to catch his breath as he chuckles lightly, studying your face.
“Yeah.” You murmur, ghosting your fingers over your lips as if trying to remember if that actually just happened.
“Uhm, so I like you. If-if that wasn’t obvious.” He stutters and you chuckle, smiling at the curly-haired dork.
“I like you too.”
“I’m sorry I pushed you away. Made you feel left out when I was just too nervous to admit I liked you.”
“I’m sorry I got all moody and quit the club because I was jealous of my brother instead of just telling you how I felt.”
“So…does this mean you’ll come back?” He asks, hopeful, as he kneels in front of you.
“You’ll stop treating me differently?”
“Mhm. Trust me when I say there’ll be no pushing you away after that.”
“Mm. Don’t be treating me specially either just because we kissed.” you lightly chuckle, cocking a brow as you chew on your lip to hold back the smile wanting to light up your face.
“Can I treat you differently if I ask you to be my girlfriend?” he questions, a wide, goofy smile filling his face as he looks at you.
A smile grows on your face at his sheer happiness, drawing a light chuckle from you as you reply to his question.
“Not during game play. We don’t wanna be unfair to the guys, do we?”
“Mm, you’re right. If I promise to not treat you specially during gameplay then will you be my girlfriend?” he asks, really wanting to hear you say yes. He’s only liked you for nearly three years, frequently imagining you as his girlfriend the entire time.
“I would really love for you to be my girlfriend, and I your boyfriend. It just. It sounds really nice.”
“You ramble a lot. You know that?” You giggle, tucking some hair behind his ear as a blush dusts over his cheeks.
“Is that a good thing?”
“Sometimes.” You smile, biting your lip to keep from kissing him again.
“So…?”
“If you promise not to treat me specially during the game, then I’d love to be your girlfriend, Eddie.”
“Yeah?” He questions, as if he doesn’t believe that you’d agree.
“Yeah.”
With the word out of your mouth, his lips find yours again, pulling a chuckle from your body as he slowly lowers himself on top of you, pinning you against your mattress as he kisses you, one hand cupping your cheek as the other rests on your waist.
“Did you-ew!” You hear Dustin call from your doorway, fake gagging as he sees Eddie on top of you, effectively startling the man back into kneeling at the end of your bed.
“Did we what, dustin?” You ask, leaning around Eddie’s body to look at your brother still standing at your doorway, one hand plastered over his eyes.
“I wanted to see if you two had figured things out, but it seems like you did.”
“Yeah, we did, little henderson. Your sister is coming back to the club.” Eddie shares, smiling at you as he situates himself on the bed beside you, Dustin uncovering his eyes in excitement at the exact same time.
“Can you please get off of my sister?” he begs, shielding his eyes again as eddie places a soft kiss to your lips in his own happiness of you coming back to the club.
“But I like being close to my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?! You’re dating my sister?!” Dustin exclaims, a look of pure shock and disgust on his face.
“Is there a problem with it, Dustin?” You question, watching your brother almost seeming to pout.
“I guess not. Just…don’t be gross when I’m around. Please?”
“We’ll try not to be.” Eddie states, smiling at you as Dustin nods, giving a small okay before leaving the two of you alone.
As the door closes, Eddie’s looking back at you, both of you chuckling.
“Guess you were right in saying he’d be traumatized one day.” He chuckles, leaning down to give you another kiss, never realizing just how amazing it’d feel to have your lips on his.
You can’t help but smile into it, enjoying the feel of his body on yours. You’ve only been imaging this moment for nearly four years. You’ve got to say that nothing you imagined could ever live up to the reality, though. Kissing Eddie is like a little slice of heaven, you swear.
It certainly took you long enough to get here, but now that you’re here, you don’t ever want to go back.
pls like & reblog the fic if you enjoyed it!
add yourself to my taglist!
st taglist; @mollysolo @paola-carter @milflover419 @science--hoes @anonymously-nerdy @hpotterwhore @bonked-beyond-belief2
#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#st fanfic#stranger things angst#st angst#stranger things fluff#st fluff#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x henderson!reader#eddie munson angst#eddie munson fluff
26K notes
·
View notes
Text
All I Ever Wanted
pairing: zuko x reader
notes: this was originally requested by an anon but i also took inspiration from mitski’s song “your best american girl” while writing this. give it a listen during your read !
summary: as a peasant and servant girl for the palace, you should have known better than to fall for the Prince
The sun is warm against your skin and the grass is soft beneath you as you land on your back in a fit of giggles. Azula is unamused by your antics, but Zuko finds himself laughing right along with you. It’s a peaceful summer’s day in the palace gardens, and you spend it as you would any other day by playing with your friends.
“I caught you,” you tell him with a breathless laugh after turning your head to face him.
“No way, I was just going easy on you,” he argues with playful grin, his nose nearly brushing against your own due to your close proximity on the grass. Your heart beats fast in your rib cage as you try to ignore the rising heat on your face and play it off as a result of your exhaustion and not your nerves from lying with the Prince. You haven’t realized it yourself, but you have a crush on Zuko, a painfully obvious one that he hasn’t seemed to notice yet. What you also don’t realize is that he reciprocates the feeling, and he shares the thrill that comes with being your playmate.
“Are you two done yet?” Azula finally interrupts with a roll of her eyes as she offers you her hand and helps you up from the ground. “It’s my turn to hide this time.”
“I don’t think we can play anymore,” Zuko notes with a frown as his mother makes her way towards your group. You quickly bow in respect to the Fire Lady, but she waves you off with a smile.
“I’m sorry, y/n, but Zuko and Azula must attend their fire bending lessons now. I’m afraid playtime is over for today,” she informs you apologetically.
“Yes, Fire Lady Ursa,” you reply politely before turning to give both of your friends departing hugs. “Bye Zuko, bye Azula!”
“It’s too bad you’re not a fire bender,” Azula remarks after halfheartedly returning your embrace. “Maybe dad would let us play with you more if you were.”
Her words make your body hot with embarrassment and shame, and though you don’t voice your discomfort Ursa is instantly able to pick up on it. With a scolding glare, the Fire Lady quickly urges her daughter to apologize.
“Azula, that is not a nice thing to say to a friend.”
“But it’s true,” the girl mutters under her breath only to have her mother drag her away before she can get the chance to say anything else. Zuko hesitates then, giving you an apologetic look and promising to play with you tomorrow before rushing after Ursa and Azula.
You’ve never really cared about being a non-bender, but there’s something about Azula’s words that has you questioning your worth. As the daughter of a royal family servant with no title or money to her name, you knew you were lucky to be able to grow up in the palace and play with the Fire Lord’s children. However, you never once realized that you weren’t their equal. They were royalty, a Prince and a Princess destined to become powerful benders and ruthless leaders of the Fire Nation, and you were simply a girl who would one day grow up to live a life of servitude. You had no real future or purpose ahead of you, not like they did, and yet you were the only one unaware of your unfortunate fate.
Perhaps it’s because they never treated you in such a way, and your mother did her best to shield you from your true heritage. For now you could grow up blissfully unaware of the fact that your friends would one day outgrow you.
“Mom?” Zuko asks once they’re safe inside the palace. “Do you like y/n?”
“She’s a sweet girl,” Ursa notes with a faint smile, “and she makes you both happy. So yes, I like her.”
“Then why doesn’t Dad?”
The Fire Lady’s smile fades into a remorseful frown, and she simply ushers her son forward with a shake of her head. “Let’s not worry about that now. You’re going to be late for your lesson.”
Zuko isn’t satisfied with her answer, but he isn’t give a chance to discuss it further with her. For now, he remains content with the fact that he likes you, and his mother likes you.
That is enough for him.
~~~
The day is calm as you carefully hang the clothes to dry and enjoy the warmth of the sun basking on your skin. It’s rare that you get tasked with the outdoor chores, so you savor the opportunity for as long as you can. Doing the royal family’s laundry certainly beats scrubbing the floors of the palace, and you are grateful the spirits have taken mercy upon you today.
You’re freshly fifteen and the summer is just beginning. You’ve grown into a well-mannered young woman, and you’re old enough now to be able to take on some of the work that once fell to your mother. One day you will take her place and continue to serve the royal family until you’re no longer physically able. You’ll never get to leave, but you consider yourself grateful to live on the palace grounds. You will forever have a roof over your head, food on the table, and, most importantly, your friends.
You take great care to pin Azula’s dresses down without getting any creases or wrinkles in the fabric, and you’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure carefully creeping up behind you. You’re too busy reciting the words to an old Fire Nation folk song your mother had taught you to pay any mind to your surroundings, and it gives Zuko the perfect opportunity to catch you by surprise.
“Y/n!” He exclaims with a grin as his hands land firmly upon your shoulders. You nearly jump out of your skin at the act, and your reaction has the Fire Prince laughing so hard his cheeks begin to hurt.
“Zuko!” You scold with an irritated scowl as you chuck a handful of clothespins at him in retaliation. “You need to stop doing that!”
“I’m sorry, you just make it so easy,” he teases with a light nudge to your side before taking it upon himself to pick up the pins you’d discarded.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready to leave for Ember Island?” You ask him with a quizzical look as you resume your previous work of hanging the clothes.
“That’s actually what I was coming to talk to you about,” he admits with a sheepish smile. “I want you to come with us.”
“What? You’re not serious, are you?” You retort apprehensively, halting your movements to gauge his reaction for any hint of insincerity or humor.
“I am serious. You deserve to have fun once in a while too,” he notes with a careful smile. You’re too oblivious to notice the look of admiration on his face and definitely too concerned with finding a way to let him down gently to realize he’s inviting you because he likes you. Despite your own feelings for the Prince you’ve developed over the years, you’re much too self-depreciating to ever believe Zuko could possibly feel the same. If only you knew.
“I can’t just up and leave! There’s work to be done, a-and my mother would be so upset with me if I abandoned my chores and-“
“Azula will tell our father she wishes to bring you along as a personal servant so you can come with us, and someone else will be tasked with taking on your work while you’re away. There’s no way your mom could be upset with you for serving the Princess, could she?”
“Azula would really do that for me?” You question meekly, a hopeful glint in your eyes as you hang on to his every word. You’re trying your best not to get your hopes up, but you wish for nothing more than to leave the capital city to see the ocean for the first time and feel the sand beneath your feet. As the daughter of a servant and now a servant yourself, you know you’d never get a chance like this if not for the fact that the siblings had grown fond of you over your years of friendship together. You’re lucky, because you know without them you’d truly be nothing more than a floor scrubbing peasant.
“Of course she would, she wants you there just as much as I do,” Zuko assures you. Gently taking your hands in his own, he gives them a comforting squeeze and looks into your eyes with a loving smile. “We leave tomorrow morning. Bring enough clothes to last you three days and a bathing suit.”
“I don’t own one,” you admit with an embarrassed frown, but your friend doesn’t display any sign of judgement in the slightest towards your shortcomings.
“Then I’ll take you shopping myself when we get there.”
Your heart melts at his words, your gaze falling to the ground bashfully as you try not to dwell on the fact that he’s still holding your hands. You’re in love with the Prince, and the Prince is in love with you, and everyone but you has figured out just how much you mean to each other.
Even Fire Lord Ozai, who odiously watches the scene unfold before him from the top of the palace balcony.
~~~
The shores of Ember Island are beautiful.
The waves almost seem to sparkle underneath the moonlight as they crash peacefully against the shore, and down below the lively chatter of your friends carries through the air and fills your heart with contentment. You’ve had the most perfect time here at the beach, and it pains you to know that tonight will be your last night of freedom before you must return home and resume your life as a servant girl.
The wooden doors behind you carefully slide open and closed, and soon a familiar warmth joins you out on the balcony. For a while you say nothing, simply enjoying the closeness of him as you watch Azula, Ty Lee, and Mai practice tricks in the sand below. You don’t know how to thank the Prince for all he’s done for you, for always looking out for you since you were children, for never once treating you as less than for your heritage. You don’t know how to tell him that you love him with your entire being.
So he does it for you.
“I got you something,” Zuko says after a moment’s silence, waiting for you to turn your gaze to him so he may pull out a small clam from beneath his robes. You raise a curious eyebrow at his offering as he gestures for you to take it.
“A clam shell?” You note inquisitively as you turn the gift around in your palms, carefully feeling out its grooves and intricate ridges.
“Open it,” he directs you quietly, anxiously watching your movements with bated breath.
You smile curiously at your friend before delicately pulling the top half of the shell open to reveal the contents inside. Your eyes widen in surprise at the gift that greets you, and you immediately look up to Zuko to ensure this isn’t some kind of joke.
Inside the clam sits a beautiful gold necklace with a dainty sun pendant resting in the center that shimmers under the light of the moon. It’s beautiful, and it’s certainly worth more than your own life, which is why you immediately try to hand it back to him.
“I-I can’t accept this!” You hastily insist with a quick shake of your head as you struggle to return the clam to him. “It’s too nice!”
“You can accept this,” Zuko reassures you as he carefully pushes the gift back towards you. When his efforts fail due to your persistent attempts to give back the shell, he lets out a sigh and carefully removes the necklace from the clam. “Y/n, I want you to have it.”
“But why?” You demand apprehensively, almost flinching away when he moves towards you with the necklace. You’re completely overwhelmed by his gift and unsure of what it means or why you’d ever be deserving of such a thing. You don’t want to take advantage of his kindness or his status, and you feel like he’s done more than enough for you by bringing you along on this trip, so it just feels wrong of you to take it.
“Because you deserve nice things too,” Zuko explains, and after giving you a pointed look you finally allow him to carefully put the necklace on you. The sun rests daintily along your neck, and he thinks it suits you perfectly. “I brought you on this trip because I wanted you to have fun for once, but also because… well, because I love you, and I thought a romantic setting might make it easier to tell you that.”
“You love me?”
“You haven’t noticed?” He retorts with a meek smile. “I’m not the best at words, but I know that I’ve loved you since we were children feeding turtle ducks in the pond and playing tag in the gardens. You have the purest heart of anyone I know, the sweetest smile, you are everything to me. I hope that by accepting this gift, you’ll be accepting me as someone worthy enough to be your boyfriend.”
“Oh, Zuko…” you murmur softly, eyes full of tears as you throw yourself into his arms and hug him as tight as humanly possible. You’re still shocked by the fact that the boy you love will all your heart feels the same, but you try to remind yourself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Zuko is right when he says that you deserve to enjoy what life has to offer just as much as he does, so maybe it’s time you finally start allowing yourself the chance to finally let your guard down. You can be more than just a servant girl from the palace.
You can be happy.
~~~
You sit quietly before the vanity mirror as your mother tediously brushes through your hair to ensure not a single strand is out of place. The wrinkles in her skin crease with her nerves as she carefully begins to pin your hair back into the perfect top knot. Immediately after your return home from Ember Island, you were informed that the Fire Lord wished to speak with you. You were expected to drop your chores for the day and make yourself decent before presenting yourself to him. His request to see you surprised you considering the fact you previously believed he didn’t even know of your existence, but it made you nervous all the same. If anything were to go wrong during your meeting, you’d be jeopardizing both yours and your mother’s jobs.
“Make sure to sit up straight and no slouching,” she reminds you quietly while stopping to admire her work. “Hold your tongue until he allows you to speak and thank him for all he has done for us. It is a great honor to speak to Fire Lord Ozai, so you must treat it as such.”
“Mother, what could the Fire Lord possibly want to talk to me about?”
She doesn’t meet your eyes at first, looking away as if contemplating carefully what her next words should be. With a sigh, she sets the brush down and looks at you through the reflection. “Word has spread quickly about you and Prince Zuko, and I think he knows.”
You swallow nervously at her admission, absently brushing your fingers against the sun that hangs around your neck. You never once considered what Zuko’s father would think about his son’s choice of a partner; Ursa had always treated you as one of her own, and Azula considered you to be a good friend, but what would Ozai say of the peasant girl who had stolen his son’s heart?
You don’t have much time to mull over it further as a guard arrives to escort you from your quarters to the throne room. All eyes seem to follow you as you walk through the palace, the gold and red hues overwhelming your senses as you do your best to remain calm. You have no idea what awaits you at the end of the hallway, but there’s no escape now as the grand doors open and you’re pushed inside.
Ozai sits on the throne with a wall of flames roaring behind him. His features are stoic but his gaze is menacing as his eyes watch your meager form approach. You immediately bow in respect to the man once you reach him and kneel before his seated figure. Just as your mother instructed, you say nothing until you are spoken to.
“So you’re the girl my son has chosen to be his partner?” He drawls with a raised brow, obviously not impressed by the person before him.
“Yes, sir. It is an honor to present myself to you, my Lord,” you profess as earnestly as possible while adding another bow for good measure. You need his approval not only to continue dating Zuko, but also to ensure you and your mother are both able to continue living behind the palace walls. Even if you are there as servants tucked away in the peasant quarters, it certainly is a better place to be than out in the streets.
“I know who you are, child,” Ozai scoffs callously as he peers down at you from his place on the throne. “You are the peasant girl who managed to worm her way into the lives of my children. You are a lowly servant with nothing to your name and nothing special about you, and yet you have managed to corrupt my only son."
“Fire Lord Ozai, I-I apologize if my actions have upset you,” you quickly try to interject, but he holds a hand up and signals you to halt your pathetic rambling. Ozai does not have the time nor care to hear your excuses or explanations. That’s not what this meeting is for.
“Do you know how poorly it would reflect on me to have Zuko galavanting around the palace with a servant? Do you know how poorly it reflects on him to be seen with you? It’s a disgrace, and it is something I will not tolerate.”
“I know,” you utter quietly, trying to make yourself appear as small as you feel on the inside. Despite what Zuko has told you, you know that his father is right. You are nothing compared to him. He is the sun, the Prince, the heir to the throne. His future ahead is bright, and there is much for him to accomplish. You have no future, no plans for your life, nothing as grand or important as him and Azula. You are not the sun or the moon or even the stars that hang in his sky, you are insignificant, and you will never be worthy enough to be his.
“A future Fire Lord cannot have a maid as a wife. You must break his heart so that he no longer wants anything to do with you, so that he can move on and find a girl more worthy of becoming the future Fire Lady. You must make it appear to be your own doing and not mine, otherwise it won’t work. Have I made myself clear, child?”
“Yes, Fire Lord Ozai,” you whisper softly, a single tear sliding down your cheek as you bow to the cruel man before you. “I understand.”
~~~
The clouds that hang overhead are gray as Zuko makes his way towards the servants’ quarters. It is unheard of for any royal to ever set foot on these grounds, and so all eyes watch the Prince curiously as he approaches your humble home and knocks gently on the door. Movement sounds from the other side, and after a moment he is met with the startled face of your mother. It’s clear that she hadn’t been expecting him, and he takes her by surprise when he bows to the woman in respect.
“I apologize for coming unannounced, but I was hoping I could speak to y/n,” he utters with a look of defeat on his face. His sullen features make his lack of sleep obvious, and his eyes are full of desperation. You’ve been avoiding him for weeks and he has no clue as to why, but he hopes to figure it out soon before he starts to spiral any further.
“She’s…” your mother begins to say, glancing unsurely behind her before looking back to him, “she’s not feeling well. You can come back another time.”
“But-“
“Please, Prince Zuko, we can’t risk you catching whatever it is she’s come down with. You must go.”
She gives him no time to argue before slamming the door in his face. Zuko is stunned, but his shock quickly turns to anger as he lets out a frustrated breath of flames from his mouth before stalking off to cool himself down.
His footsteps fade into the distance as he departs, and you can only sit by the window of your room and watch him walk away. There’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel as if you can’t breathe, and once he finally disappears over the horizon you break down into an inconsolable mess.
You love Zuko with all of your heart, so it kills you to act as if he means nothing to you. You’re trying to do what Ozai has demanded of you, but it’s agonizing and difficult. You’re too much of a coward to face him and break it off for good, so you’ve resorted to avidly avoiding the Prince at all costs. You hope that by pushing him away he’ll take it upon himself to end the relationship; it would be much less painful that way, but he’s too stubborn for his own good, and he’s persisted despite your best efforts.
The days seem to blend together as you lock yourself in your room while your mother continues to turn Zuko away. You haven’t done any of your chores or worked in days, but Ozai has not faulted you for your incompletion of tasks. Breaking Zuko’s heart is your task, and so long as you keep your word he couldn’t care less what you did with yourself.
After another week has passed, suffocation finally catches up to you and you’re forced to leave your room in order to get some fresh air. You sneak out at nightfall when the palace is quiet and your mother is sleeping so that no one can detect your presence. You retreat to the well out in the back and stare contemplatively into the water below. Clutching the sun that hangs from the gold chain around your neck, you admire the moon’s reflection in the ripples and wish you could be anywhere else but here in the Fire Nation.
“I thought I’d find you here,” a voice utters quietly, causing you to jump in alarm at the intrusion. You turn to meet the solemn gaze of the Prince, and as your back hits the cool stones of the well you find that you are cornered. You can’t avoid him now, and it’s a fact both of you are aware of.
“Zuko, I… I was just leaving,” you stammer hurriedly as you try to push your way past him, but he catches you by the arm before you can get away.
“No, not until you talk to me!” He demands, his eyes full of desperation and despair. “You’re supposed to be my girlfriend, yet you keep avoiding me. Why? Was it something I did?”
“No, Zuko, you didn’t do anything,” you insist despite refusing to meet his gaze. You’re terrified that someone will see you both together and alert Ozai, and you wish he would just release you so you could go back to hiding away in your room.
“Then why won’t you even look at me?”
Slowly, you peek your head up to meet his exasperated face. It seems he’s not going to give up without a fight, so you’re going to have to resort to doing what you’ve been trying to avoid this entire time.
“I don’t love you.”
“W-What?” Zuko stammers in quiet surprise, his hold on your arm loosening slightly. He doesn’t believe what he’s hearing from you, and his mind is scrambling to process your words.
“I don’t love you. I want nothing to do with you,” you repeat firmly, your eyes hardening as you stare up at him and yank yourself free from his grasp.
“Y/n, you don’t mean that-“
“I do mean it! I feel nothing for you, Zuko. I never have. I just felt like I couldn’t say no to you because you’re the Prince, so I had no choice but to say yes to being your girlfriend.”
Hurt flashes across his features and you’re dying inside at having to be so cruel to him. The heart of your childhood best friend is in your hands and you crush it with every word despite how much it pains you. But it’s better for both of you this way, it must be. Ozai will never let you be happy together, but apart he still has a chance to capture the promised future ahead of him. You’re doing him a favor, and you hope one day he’ll be able to see it that way too.
“I don’t understand,” he murmurs weakly, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Then, with frustration clear in his tone, “This doesn’t make any sense!”
“Did you honestly think we could actually be together?” You retort in disbelief. “Azula always said you were a fool, but I didn’t think you were this naive. A servant and a Prince don’t belong together, and you’re the only one who can’t seem to get that!”
“Alright, fine,” Zuko mutters indignantly. His sadness has quickly morphed into anger, and you hate the way it makes you feel. “Can I just ask you one thing?”
You say nothing in response, and he takes your silence as a sign to continue.
“If you don’t love me, then why are you still wearing the necklace?”
Your eyes widen slightly as your hand immediately flies to your neck to clutch the pendant, and your heart slowly begins to sink to your stomach as you realize you’ve been caught in your lie. It’s your turn now to be at a loss for words, unsure what to say as you simply stare up at him with your mouth slight agape.
“You don’t mean what you’re saying,” Zuko says firmly as he moves closer to you. “Someone else is speaking for you, aren’t they?”
“I…”
“What’s going on, y/n?” He presses gently, carefully resting a hand upon your cheek. “Why are you acting this way?”
“I can’t tell you,” you argue weakly, your own eyes becoming full of tears as you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You’ve missed the feeling of his warmth and the comfort of his closeness, and despite your mind screaming at you to remove yourself from him your heart keeps you planted in place.
“That’s nonsense, of course you can. You’ve always been able to tell me anything, so why can’t you now?”
“Can’t you just believe me when I tell you it’s for your own good?” You plead emphatically despite the wavering of your voice.
“How can this possibly be for my own good?!” He retorts in exasperation. “I’ve been miserable without you. Life feels empty when you aren’t around, and I don’t know how to deal with the fact that the girl I’ve loved all my life can’t seem to stand me.”
“It’s not like that!” You cry defensively as the tears finally begin to fall.
“Then what is it?!” Zuko demands, and you can’t seem to take any more of this torture. The lies are killing you, and you can’t help but to finally crack under pressure.
“I’m not good enough for you!” You finally exclaim as you pull yourself away from his touch. You try to choke back your sobs but the ache in your chest makes the task difficult, and you can do nothing but let your words flow freely after keeping them bottled in for weeks. “I-I have nothing to offer you, nothing that makes me special, nothing ahead of me like you do. It’s an embarrassment to the Fire Lord for you to be with me, and it will be an embarrassment for you to have me as your Fire Lady.”
Stunned by your admission, it takes Zuko a moment to process your words. He steps towards you and you flinch, effectively breaking his heart in the process. It’s clear you’re frightened, but not of him. Your fear is geared toward someone else, and the culprit must be responsible for you now feeling this way.
“Who told you such nonsense?”
“Your father,” you admit quietly much to Zuko’s dismay. His eyes immediately harden and his chest is immediately tight with anger, but he does his best to keep his emotions at bay so as to not upset you further. “He spoke to me when we returned from Ember Island and told me we couldn’t be together. Ozai demanded I break your heart so that you can move on and find another girl more suited for this life than I could ever be. I didn’t want to, I still don’t want to, but I’m doing this so that you can have a better future. I’ll only hold you back, Zuko.”
After taking a moment to digest your words, Zuko carefully steps towards you again. You don’t reject his advances this time, so he allows himself the opportunity to carefully wipe away the steady tears that fall down your cool cheeks. Despite how much of a mess you assume you must look like, the Prince still sees you as the most beautiful girl he’s ever laid eyes on.
“I don’t care what my father says,” he assures you gently as he takes your hands in his own. “You’re not an embarrassment, and there’s no other girl that could ever compare to you. I love you, y/n, and I’m not going to let anyone ever get in the way of that.”
“You mean that?” You ask with a quiet sniffle, holding his hands tight as if he’ll leave if you let go.
“Every word. Let my father and anyone else who disapproves of our relationship say what they want to say. I want to be with you, and I hope you still want to be with me too.”
His looks to you with pleading eyes that seek your reassurance, and for a moment you hesitate. Being with Zuko is all you’ve ever wanted, and now he stands here before you professing his loyalty and his love to you. The boy from your childhood had stolen your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you wanted it back.
You know being with him won’t be easy, especially not with his father’s adamant disapproval of your relationship, but you trust Zuko, and so you have to trust that everything will turn out okay. You meet his desperate gaze and gift him a faint smile, and despite knowing you’ll regret this, you wordlessly lean in to meet his lips in a kiss.
You can worry about Ozai’s wrath later. But for now, you allow yourself to melt into his embrace by the moonlit well as you share your first kiss in weeks. It feels right being in his arms once more after spending so much time apart, and you hope you’ll never have to be without his touch ever again.
| zuko tags: @ilovespideyyy @yiyibetch @eridanuswave @lammello @a-monsters-love @taeeemin @livelaughlovekuni @lovialy @alexatiu
#melzula writes#request#zuko#zuko x reader#zuko imagine#prince zuko#prince zuko x reader#prince zuko imagine#azula#ursa#ozai#angst#atla#atla x reader#atla imagine#avatar the last airbender
718 notes
·
View notes
Text
Give Me Eyes To See [Mini Verstappen Series]
Dad!Max Verstappen x Mother!Reader (Established Relationship)
Summary: Nikita's first few days at home. Flashbacks to moments from the reader's pregnancy.
Warning(s): Flashbacks, Mentions of giving birth (Non-graphic)
A/N: All of the Flashbacks are individual things that were written that I condensed into this. The last flashback could have been its own part but I thought it fit better here. Title taken from the song Home by Corey Taylor.
Words: 2.7k
Previous Part → Next Part
Mini Verstappen Masterlist
Max had grown to love the backyard. It was a big reason as to why they had chosen this house when he and Y/N had talked about moving.
It was quiet and peaceful here. It made time slow down and made him appreciate the little things in life. Like the little bundle of blankets that he was holding in his arms.
Max had never thought that he would be a father before he retired from racing. It was never in the cards for him. Nico had been a surprise in his life and Nikita had also been unexpected. The first time that Max had held Nico he thought he was small. Nikita was even tinier for just a few days old.
He was eating every three hours and wasn’t letting Y/N get any sleep. Max rocked Nikita as he slightly whimpered in the bundle. He was enamored with him.
Something so small that he helped create that had been in Y/N’s belly was now in his arms.
“I… I know that you are new to the world.” He muttered as Nikita dozed in his arms. “I just want you to know that as your Papa, I’ll do everything that I can to be there for you. I may not be there every day like your Mama, but I love you just as much.”
He laid his hand over Nikita’s chest, feeling the faint rise and fall of his little breaths under his hand.
As Max held Nikita, he couldn’t help but think back to the first time that he got to hold Nico. From the moment that both of his sons had come into his life, he knew he was going to do everything that he could, to do right by them.
August 7th, 2025
“What do you think about Nikita for a name?” You asked Max.
Max had just spent the last few hours trying to figure out the directions to put together the furniture that would be going in the baby’s room. After spending a few hours figuring out how the directions worked, he was now sitting on the couch in the family room with you looking through a book filled with baby names.
Max’s first thought was of Nikita Mazapin. He didn’t want a child of his, named after him.
“No.” He simply said.
“It means victory in Russian.” You offered while stroking your growing bump.
Now Max was even more against the idea. In the last few weeks, you had this idea of the baby having an Ni name like with Nico and you hadn’t let the idea go.
Max had put his gaming controller to the side pausing the current Fifa game that was on the screen.
“What about if it’s a girl?” He asked. He liked the possibility of there finally being a girl in the family. Victoria had two boys and he had Nico. Maybe it would be nice to have a little girl walking around that looked like you.
“Well, we’ll see when the baby finally comes.” You had both agreed that you wanted the gender of the baby to be a secret.
“But if it’s a boy, I know that I want him to have the middle name Daniel.”
Max couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. “Daniel?” He questioned. “My son, named after two F1 drivers. Nikita Mazapin and Daniel,” Max was okay with the baby’s middle name being taken from Daniel, Daniel was a good friend to him, a good uncle to Nico and he had been a great teammate.
You couldn’t help but look at him slightly confused. “Nikita Mazapin? I was thinking Nikita for Niki, like Niki Lauda.”
“Then why not Nikolaas, it’ll still be shortened to Niki.”
“This baby doesn’t really feel like a Nikolaas.”
“How about we make a deal? The baby is a boy, I’ll let you pick the name, anything you want. But it’s a girl I get to pick.”
Even as you agreed with Max, he knew in the end that you would get your way. He could never deny you anything. His second child, if it was a boy, was going to be named after Niki Lauda.
Max had come inside from sitting out on the terrace that led to the backyard. Nikita had been fussing a bit, probably due to the slight cold breeze this morning.
"Papa." Max heard from the hallway.
He looked up to see Nico standing outside of the door to the master bedroom. Nico was still in his pajamas holding the stuffed teddy bear that Charles had gotten him.
Max looked at Nico before moving his head to glance back at the bed where Y/N was still sleeping. He motioned for Nico to walk closer to him.
Since that moment that Nikita had come home with them, Nico had been curious about his little brother. How small he was. What type of food he was allowed to eat. When he could start to play with him.
Nico climbed onto the couch and scooted as close as he could to Max.
"Can I?" Nico asked, putting out his little hands.
Max nodded, placing the baby closer to Nico without putting him in his arms. Nico reached down to give Nikita a kiss on his forehead before the baby shifted in his swaddle.
Over the last few days, Max had noticed that Nikita wasn't a fussy baby. He only started crying when he was hungry or when he needed to be changed, besides that he just liked to sleep.
"He's small," Nico commented.
"Yes, he is. You were once that small too." Although Max had never gotten the chance to hold Nico when he was this small.
"No," Nico said with a shake of his head. Nico thought he was right about everything since Nikita had come home. As if, because he was Nikita's older brother he knew more now.
Max just nodded before Nico started to mumble at his younger brother. "Nikitha, Nikitha, Niki..." It seemed Nico had settled on before dropping his head against Max's arm and closing his eyes, his feet tucked under the blanket that was normally thrown over the couch.
Mother's Day - May 11, 2025
Everyone was coming over for Mother's Day, Max had Sophie, Victoria, her partner Tom, and Max's nephews flown in so they could spend the weekend with all of you.
Nico had already told both you and Max that he wanted to camp out in the living room with Luka and Lio when they came. Max had gone into the laundry room and pulled out extra sheets and pillows to make up the couches for the boys to sleep on. You had talked with Victoria about it and she was fine with it.
When everyone arrived you gave Victoria, Tom, and Sophie a tour of the house. The last time Sophie had been here was a week after you and Max got back from your honeymoon, and everything still wasn't unpacked. Victoria and Tom took in the house with fresh eyes, seeing the way that all of your and Max's things fit together in the new space. Nico, Luka, and Lio had gone into Nico's room to play with his toys.
The reason that you had invited everyone over was because both you and Max had been keeping the pregnancy to yourselves since you found out. You finally wanted to tell everyone since it was almost the end of your first trimester.
You had spent the first half of Sunday cooking before Max insisted that Sophie and Victoria take over for you. Sophie gave you a look that told you she knew that something was up.
When you finally sat down for dinner, food and drinks were going around the table. Tom went to fill the wine glass that was in front of you and you let him, wanting to wait to share your news until everyone had food on their plates.
You had been sitting to the left of Max when he reached for your hand, his thumb drawing little circles with the pad of his finger. You had initially planned to tell Sophie and Victoria that you were pregnant just after you and Max had gone back to the doctor. Eventually, you and Max agreed to wait until you were closer to the end of your first trimester.
About halfway through dinner, you could feel a set of eyes on you before looking up to see Sophie looking at you. She lightly tapped her wine glass with her finger before her eyes moved to yours which was still full from when Tom filled it earlier.
Max had taken the last bite of food off his plate before reaching for his glass to take a sip. His eyes traveled to you knowing that you couldn't drink any of the wine that was in your glass.
"I know that it is Mother's Day and we are all here as a family to celebrate the amazing woman in our lives who do so much for us," Max said lifting his glass. "So, Y/N and I have some news to share with you."
Everyone at the table was silent for a few moments before you spoke, "I'm pregnant."
Sophie and Victoria were quick to get out of their chairs hugging you and giving you their congratulations. Tom walked over to Max giving him a hug.
There was a piercing sound of chair legs scraping against the hardwood floor. Nico was quick to walk out of the room leaving everyone to walk downstairs with heavy steps. Victoria was quick to pull away from you and then Max moved his chair to follow after Nico.
You reached for Max's arm stopping him from following Nico, and then got up from your chair. You followed Nico into his bedroom, your fingers lightly rapping on the hardwood of his bedroom door. He looked up from where he lay in bed.
"Hi Mama," He quietly spoke.
"Hey," You moved to sit on the edge of Nico's bed.
You hadn't told Nico that you were pregnant thinking it better to wait a little.
"Are you sad that you're getting a sibling?" You asked.
Nico shook his head no, then shifted in his blue sheets dropping his head against your arm.
"You're my Mama," He whined. You moved to run your fingers through Nico's hair like you would do for Max. "I don't wanna share."
So Nico was upset that he would have to share you with the baby. "You share me with Papa." You told him.
"No, Papa shares you with me." He argued back. You gave Nico a small smile.
When Max wasn't home Nico had all of your attention, and when Max was home, Nico shared you with Max until Nico had to head to bed.
"Do you mind sharing me with Papa?" You asked him.
Nico shook his head no.
"Do you mind sharing me when Luka and Lio spend time with us?" You asked.
Nico shook his head no again and then moved his head into your lap squishing his chubby cheek into the material of your pants.
You weren't really sure what you could say to Nico about this to make him feel better. You and Max were having a baby and Nico would have to understand that the baby would need attention, a lot of attention for the first few months.
"Nico, you know that just because Papa and I are having a baby doesn't mean that we're not going to have time for you."
It was a little odd trying to reason with a four-year-old, but Nico needed to know that having a baby in the house wasn't going to change how much you loved him.
"You forget me with the baby." he blubbered.
"I'm not going to forget you, and neither is Papa." You pulled him into your lap so he could rest his head on your shoulder. "No one is going to replace you." You kissed Nico's cheek and then his hair. You looked up to see Max leaning against the doorway.
He quickly walked inside and sat on the other side of Nico. Nico looked up at Max before laying his head down again.
"How much did you hear?" You mouthed to Max.
He moved his index finger in a circle as if to say all of it. You nodded.
"Nico," Max started. "Mama and I love you, and there being a baby isn't going to change that."
Nico moved away from you and turned toward Max, "Not true."
This was one of those moments where you could tell that Nico had gotten his stubbornness from Max.
"It's true," Max said. "Mama and I are going to be busier taking care of the baby. But we're not going to love you less."
Nico threw himself into your arms, "Baby can have my toys, not my Mama."
Part of you wanted to laugh, Nico was quick to give up all of his toys before he was willing to give you up. You and Max shared a look before you both smiled at one another.
"Well, what if we told you that the baby was for you to have someone to play with?" You asked Nico.
Nico looked up at you before looking over at Max, he furrowed his brows in confusion. "I play with the baby?"
You nodded at Nico. "Yes, and you can share all of your toys with them, and get to go swimming together, and come to Paps's races."
"It's your job as the oldest to protect your younger sibling like I do with Auntie Vic." Max pointed out.
As you and Max told Nico more about the things that he got to do now that he was going to be an older brother you could tell that he was slowly coming around to the idea.
Later on in the evening after the table was cleared Nico and his cousins ended up all asleep on the living room couches while everyone else went out to the back patio. You ended up curled up against Max, his hand on your growing bump while talking with Sophie and Victoria. It was mostly the same stories that you had heard about Max as he grew up. Tom was talking with Max about the end of PSV's season before you all called it a night.
The sound of light voices woke you up, you were tired from the lack of sleep and turned towards Max's side of the bed to see the clock read one hour until you had to feed Nikita again.
You slowly sat up seeing Max, Nico, and Nikita all on the couch that the bed overlooked.
"When can we play?" Nico asked.
"He's too little to play yet," Max replied.
"But Mama said that I could play with him when he came."
"Nico, he's too young to play right now, but once he's older you can play together."
You shifted in the sheets a bit letting out an uncomfortable groan trying to sit up against the pillows behind you. Your pregnancy had gone as smoothly as possible, and the birth was close to perfect. However, you were still sore in your abdomen. Your OB told you if it didn't go away by the next time she saw you, she would end up prescribing you something mild so you could still breastfeed Nikita.
"Mijn leeuwin, are you okay?" Max asked turning away from Nico towards you.
You silently nodded, "Fine, just sore."
Nico had abandoned Max on the couch climbing into bed with you, scooting close in the king-size bed to lay next to you his feet hanging off the edge of the bed, clutching the little brown bear in his arms.
Max got up from the couch and slowly walked over before getting under the bedsheets again, you helped pull back the sheets while Max moved Nikita in his arms to his other side. Nikita's head lay against Max's shoulder still sleeping with Nico throwing his arm over your middle.
You looked over at Max, he pressed his lips together and you knew that he was trying to hold back a few tears before a wide smile broke out on his face.
"I love you." You mouthed silently.
"I love you too." He said back. He quickly reached up and kissed your hair as you snuggled in closer to his side.
taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13
#mini verstappen series#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen imagines#max verstappen x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 x reader#mv33 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#formula 1 x reader
767 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching
dbf!Joel x f!reader
Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.
Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.
Word Count: 3.8k
Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).
This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!
Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!
Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics
Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist
“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”
“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.
“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”
Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”
“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”
“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”
“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”
“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.
Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.
“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.
“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”
Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”
“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”
Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.
Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?
Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.
A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.
“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.
“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”
A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”
Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.
Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.
“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.
“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.
“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.
“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”
His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.
You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.
“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.
“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.
A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.
Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.
Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.
“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”
My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?
The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.
“I love you, Joel.”
You loved him.
What did he ever do to deserve something like that?
Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.
He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.
I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.
I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.
I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.
I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.
Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.
“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”
Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.
Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.
His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.
“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”
He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.
Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.
The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.
He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.
His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.
“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.
“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.
Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.
With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”
Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.
His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.
Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.
“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.
It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”
Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.
“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”
Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.
“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.
“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”
The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.
He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.
Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.
Oh shit.
You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.
“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”
You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.
“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”
You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”
Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”
Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”
“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”
Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”
Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”
The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.
“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.
“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.
“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”
Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.
“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”
Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”
tbc
Taglist: @mellymbee @untamedheart81 @anoverwhelmingdin @runningmom94 @leilanixx
@pedropascalfan221 @lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr
@lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg
@ashleyfilm @brittmb115 @lilmizmoz @loveisacowboyyy @shotgun-shelby
@deninoe @casssiopeia @caitlynsixxx @skysmiller @missladym1981
@marirxse @lizzie-cakes @tynakub
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel x female reader#the last of us#tlou#dbf!joel#Fall Into Me#pedro pascal#eventual smut#mutual pining#idiots in love
166 notes
·
View notes
Text
no. 1 party anthem
matty healy x photographer!reader
A/N: lowkey projecting bc im a photographer/videographer❤️ this is set during like self-titled. if u could tell. named this after the AM song bc i think it fits (the bridge of this song is so them coded) this is unnecessarily long (6.1k words) but anyway Enjoy
warnings: smut 18+. um fingering, p in v unprotected sex, oral (m and f receiving), masturbation a bit? (male), degradation, praise, use of a camera during sex, Sir kink, exhibitionism (kinda), sex on a couch, light choking/slapping (blink and miss it!), probs more kinda filthy etc..
Today was shit. Complete and utter shit. Your alarm didn’t go off, you spilled coffee all over yourself, had to go home to change, and you were going to be late to your first clients appointment. It’s only 8:30, and you could already tell it was going to be a bad day.
Your first client was booked at 7:45. You only had four appointments today. Normally, you’d be a bit more booked out. But, your last clients would take up more time than usual. An up-and-coming band you heard, that were quite popular already. Their management had informed them about your local studio, and an appointment was made.
Upon walking into your studio promptly at 8:00, you saw that your best friend was stalling for you. She had your first client engulfed in mindless conversation. God love her, Lexi knew how to keep a crowd entertained. Really, showing up 15 minutes late wasn’t a good look. You were glad she was here to null some of the damage.
As you walked up to them, you caught the tail end of her gossiping, no doubt. You placed your hand on Lexi’s shoulder, startling her out of conversation. “Oh! Let me get out of your way. I was just telling Christian how my last shift at the diner was absolute madness. As always, though. He’s all checked in. Have fun, hope the shoot goes well!” You shot her an appreciative smile, then an apologetic one to Christian.
Stepping out of the lobby and leading him to the studio, you were face to face with him. “I am so, so sorry I kept you waiting. This morning was one from hell, for sure.”
“It’s alright, don’t worry. Shit happens.” He smiled back at you, following you into the room.
You were grateful for his understanding, hoping it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience. You prided yourself on being punctual and professional. Thankfully, the studio was already set up for his shoot
You took the lens cap off your camera and began to set up your tripod for some head shots. Flipping the camera switch to ON, you then turned to Christian.
“Let’s get started.”
…
Your next 2 appointments went on without a hitch. They were both fairly basic shoots, nothing too heavy. Your 2nd client was even a regular. She was so lovely. Today she came in to get maternity photos with her husband. Considering how long she’s been coming to your studio, you were ecstatic for her.
You were still a bit out of it and tired though, the effects of your morning not completely worn off yet. You had an hour and 45 minutes before your last clients for the day came in. The band that you’ve been anticipating.
It was 11:34 now, so you were taking this as an opportunity for your lunch break. You decided to go to the sandwich shop that was about a block down from your studio. Walking out of the darkroom in your facility, (some guests preferred genuine photographic film) you spotted Lexi. Still behind the front desk, but now on a stool, slouched and looking at her phone. Mindlessly scrolling, she was kicking her feet back and forth as they dangled from her place in her seat.
“Hungry?” You came up beside her, tapping her thigh twice. Lexi was pulled out of whatever she was watching on her phone, looking up at you. “Mhm, starving. Lunch?”
“On me,” You confirmed, “thought we could get it in before our last clients. They’re gonna take a while, but I’m looking forward to it.” You said honestly, looking out the studio’s glass windows to the street. “Have we ever shot a band?” You use the term ‘we’ loosely. When you and your best friend both got a start, you always knew that you were going to be more hands-on. She didn’t necessarily share the passion for photography, but when she had no shifts picked up for her service job at the local diner, she would pay you a visit. She stuck beside you, and you’re thankful for it.
Lexi does most of the behind the scenes work for you when she’s there, and it would honestly be 10x harder without her. “Don’t think so. I would have remembered that. Every guy in a band is, like, insanely hot.” She hopped off her stool, beat white converse hitting the ground.
“Good to know where your priorities are. Hopefully they’re cooperative.” You wondered aloud, you knew they were young. That normally meant they would be rowdy, too. Four guys around your age was bad news in general, even worse that they’re musicians. “Hopefully they’re hot.” Lexi corrects, too caught up in picking at her nail beds to see your expression.
She had you laughing out loud. Wide eyes and an even wider grin on your face. “Right, extra incentive.” You picked up your keys to the front door that were lying on one of the shelves under the front desk. Checking your watch and walking to the door, you flipped the sign to CLOSED so you and Lex could grab a bite in peace.
…
You and Lexi wasted more time than you thought. You were out for at least an hour, having went shopping after eating. You both decided you could use a new outfit. Not for anything particular, but just to treat yourselves. Then, you traveled back to the studio.
30 minutes until your next client, you still had time to kill. You went to read the email from their management, again. You saw they specifically wanted a couch in their shoot. You should probably set up their studio now. You knew you had an old, black leather couch in the back somewhere. Finding it would be the hard part.
It wouldn’t be in any of your front studios, so you decided to check the last one first. Studio 13, it was more of a storage room now. When you first leased this place, you were pretty sure it used to be a one-level warehouse. You’re never booked to the point where you’re using all the studios, and you don’t have enough staffing anyway. Still, it cleans up nicely.
You end up shouting for Lex’s help dragging the big couch to your front studio. You had already set up a white tarp for your backdrop, knowing it was a pretty minimalistic shoot. As you lug the couch along the concrete floor, the feet of it scraping against it to make a rather brash noise, you began to think the soft, calming music that you queued to combat it wasn’t working very well.
You finally push the last bit of the couch into the studio, dragging it in front of the white tarp. Lexi raised her hand for a high five, which you gladly reciprocate. You look at her with a grin. “Not bad, huh? Little studio we got going.” You both laugh, staring at the quite bleak set.
“Best in town,” Lex returns dryly, she steps out and looks to the front windows. “Those your clients?” Before you even look, you answer. Albeit sarcastically, “And I’m supposed to know, how? I’ve never met these people before.” But the words died in your throat the moment you looked. They had to be your next clients. You didn’t think anyone could fit the bill for ‘band members’ more perfectly.
So, there they were. Smoking and loitering outside the studio. And Lexi was right, because she always had to be. They were hot. No sooner than you think it, the words are coming out her mouth. “Christ, they’re handsome.” All of them wearing some short of black getup, with tight jeans and t-shirts. One boy, with longer, blonde hair, had his sunglasses on with a snapback. She laughs through her sentence in disbelief, a hand coming to her mouth. You can’t help but follow suit.
“Right, well. Even if they are, he best not ash his cig in my flower pots.” You squinted your eyes, the cigarette resting between the boys middle and index figure. Trailing your gaze to his face, he had dark curly hair. A pale complexion with deep brown eyes, cheeks sunken in as he took a drag of his cigarette. The face that, after you finished staring, you saw was looking right at you with a half-smirk. You smiled back and looked to Lex, taking a step back into the front studio. “He saw me.”
“You weren’t exactly being subtle, but oh well. That’s the one you want?” She raises her eyebrows in a tease, a wide grin splitting across her lips. Your face and body heat, eyes widening. “Can you not? I need to be professional. This is the real deal, you know? They’ve got management and everything.” You didn’t wanna blow your shot, you knew this was the foot in the door to bigger things. Cute band members were not taking this one from you.
Your hands came subconsciously to brush at your outfit, looking down at yourself to see if you looked presentable. You could practically hear your best friend’s thoughts, and the smirk on her face. You ignored her.
The bell on your door rang with entrance, and you turned to see one of the guys walking in. He had shorter dirty blonde hair, and you could see one of the others stomping on his cigarette before following behind.
Putting on your customer service smile, you took a few steps back to make room for the 4 men in the lobby. You scooted closer to Lexi, suddenly feeling outnumbered. Four sets of eyes were now looking back at you. Two brunettes, one who had closer to black hair. Two blondes, one whose was longer and lighter.
“Nice to meet you,” You sighed out, their intimidating gazes piercing. “So, um, welcome to our studio.” You introduced the both of you, giving your name and Lexi’s. Gesturing between the two of you with a wave of your hand.
They went down the line doing the same. Ross, Matty, Adam, and George. In that order, introductions exchanged in their thick accents through giggles. The boy you had taken interest in you now knew as Matty, and he was only drawing you in more.
“Well, we can get started on your session early since… you’re here.” You looked to the group, waiting for some sort of approval. You got a couple head nods, and a smirk from Matty.
“That eager to get us in, babe?” He chuckled, knocking his shoulder into his friend’s playfully. You felt embarrassment flood through you, but you led them to the studio with your head up.
“Sure. So, Studio 13. I’ll get a lot of ‘full band’ shots, but your manager said he wanted some solo shots of the each of you, too. Think it’ll be easier to get the group ones now, though.” You told them, wringing your hands slightly.
There was a small murmur of agreement, and you turned around to get your camera ready. Checking your lens, SD card, battery. “Whatever you think, you’re the pro.” Your head shot up, seeing Ross smile reassuringly at you. You returned the gesture and got back to work.
As you walked around the room to flick your lights on, you saw Matty shooting his friend a look. You didn’t think too much of it, but your eyes couldn’t stop finding his face. You were gonna have fun photographing him solo. “Okay, everyone! Get together, pose, do whatever you want. I’ll take a bunch of shots.”
After a few pictures, you stopped. Lowering your camera. “Maybe.. We should get you in the middle.” You pointed at Matty, him freezing in his place at the end of the line. “I mean, you’re just…” You trailed off, hoping he’d get the point.
George spoke up, saving you from having to complete your sentence. “She’s saying you’re the shortest, mate. Get in the middle.” He snickered, hand raising to his mouth to hide his smile.
Matty’s smile dropped, shoving his friend’s shoulder. “Whatever,” he muttered, moving to his new spot. “Better?” He tried to hold back his laugh, but was failing over the sound of his friends chuckles in the background.
Once you got them started, you could see they really were naturals. You assumed their close bond caused them to work so well and naturally together. Joking around, but still getting good shots.
However, this perception faded when you had to go in for the solos. Of course, above anything, they were boys. And they were also making your job a living hell. No matter who you were photographing, the other three were trying to get a laugh. Anything to make their friend break.
Your last straw was when you tried to get a photo of Adam, and Matty all but fell into his lap. You laughed along, (because truly, it really was just a little bit funny), but forced yourself back into work mode.
“Okay, this isn’t working. How about for the solo shots the rest of you stand out in the hallway? And we get a little rotation.” You suggested, trying to make yourself sound as light hearted as possible. Though a wave of whines passed over the group, they ultimately agreed in the end.
Working with them one-on-one was really nice. The two guys you shot so far, Adam and George, were very intelligent and funny. Unnaturally respectful for men your age, and you really couldn’t complain.
You finished both of them up, their mini shoots taking about 15 minutes each. You went back in the hallway you collect another one of them.
Adam and George now stood to the side, leaving Matty and Ross to linger right outside the door. You opened the door, looking at both of them and keeping your palm on the door handle. “Who’s next?”
Ross’ eyes went to Matty’s, about to step backwards and let him go. Then, Matty’s arm shot out to land on Ross’ shoulder. It seemed he tried to give his friend a shove forward, but the most he got out of Ross was a stumble. “Ross will go next. Save the best for last and all that, right?”
You giggled at Matty’s antics, while the rest of his friends let out sighs and eye rolls. Ross mumbled something under his breath, a sarcastic ‘right, sure..’ was the most you caught. You then lead him into the studio, closing the door on your way.
Ross’ session took about 5 minutes more than the others. He was incessantly flirting, making it hard to do your job. And while there was no denying that he was very cute, you knew they were all harmless comments.
You were finding out quickly that the boys were good company. And the shots were all turning out more than great. They were all so naturally photogenic, and the camera loved them. You doubted you’d have to do much editing.
…
You walked out with Ross, on your way to finally bring Matty in. You two lightly chatted on your way out, Matty’s eyes landing on you the second the door opened. He looked at Ross and tilted his head, to which the taller boy only looked down at him and grinned.
You broke the awkward silence, clapping your hands together. “Right, well. Matty, last but not least and all that.” You step back and put your hands up, gesturing for him to step in before you.
Once you finally got him away from the rest of the band and you closed the door, his whole demeanor shifted. Matty turned around instantly to look at you, and you looked down to the floor. You could see his smile through your periphery.
“Okay, so. For the rest of the guys I got a few of them standing and a few of them sitting on the couch…” You trail off, looking around the room. At this point, you’re just desperately trying to avoid eye contact with him. Maybe saving him for last wasn’t the brightest idea.
“Okay,” Matty nods his head, eyes following yours and looking around the studio. “Should I.. get on the couch?” He says offhandedly, a hand coming to hide the smirk that’s blooming on his face.
You feel your face get hot, but you agree anyway. “Um, yeah. That’ll work.” You walk over to the studio light, dragging it in place from where you moved it when with Ross.
After getting the area set up, you turn back to Matty. He’s looking at you expectantly, waiting for direction. “You can just pose however you want. I’ll just take a bunch of shots and there’s bound to be some keepers.” You smile and turn your camera on, fiddling with the settings.
“Have to tell me if I’m doing good, then. Don’t know what I’m doing when I pose, to be honest.” He laughs, moving in his seat a bit. You scoff, still too preoccupied with your camera to realize you did it out loud. “What?” he asks intrigued, still smiling.
“Don’t think you could really look bad. I mean, you’re photogenic and good looking to begin with, so.” You press your lips together, the words flowing out of your mouth too freely. You turn around and walk to a cart that’s in the corner of the room, pretending to grab something from it.
“Yeah, sweetheart? Think I look good?” His smile grows unbelievably wider, not being able to hold back his teasing remarks. You roll your eyes, obviously not meaning the blatant compliment to come out. You come closer to him and he kicks his knee out so it brushes your thigh.
Trying to brush it off, you shrug your shoulders. “You caught me,” You said with the faintest smirk on your face. Taking photos of him flows naturally. He’s just too.. perfect. And though you don’t throw that word around, he really is. You already love the few shots you have of him.
You get down on your knees to take the next picture from a better angle, leaning back on your calves as you do. Matty’s eyes widen and immediately find yours. It doesn’t register in your head what he’s thinking, until you see him shift in his seat.
He doesn’t do it subtly, and you know he wants you to look. You’re no better, so easily giving into temptation. Your eyes drag to his hips, watching the way he lifts himself off the couch momentarily.
“Alright, babe?” He calls, drawing your attention back up to his face. Though, your gaze lingers on his mouth. He winks at you.
“Should I be asking you that instead?” You hide behind the camera, snapping more pictures. You remembered the promise you made to Lexi and yourself. Be professional.
He chuckled, bringing his hands to run them along his thighs. “Only if you’re gonna help me out.” His eyes search yours for an answer, and you can only guess that you look as desperate as you feel. You nod.
His hands run higher, rubbing over the tent in his jeans. “Gonna need your words, then.” He smirks, and you feel so out of control. But it feels nice.
“Yes, please. I’ll help you.” You get up from your spot on the floor, ready to move towards him. Matty’s hand presses on himself harder, and he groans.
“Ah,” He tsks, stopping you in your tracks. “Don’t get to touch me yet, we’re not done our photo shoot.” He smiles, which then gets interrupted with a moan. The only thing you’re focusing on is how he works himself with his hand.
“Please, Matty. Need you.” You’re already begging him, but you don’t dare move from your spot. Because you want to be good for him. You feel the pit in your stomach, and then the pool of arousal in your panties.
“C’mon, take a picture of me baby. Isn’t that your job?” Matty throws his head back, palming himself through his jeans even more. You feel your knees weaken, the camera suddenly heavier in your hand.
You bring the camera up to your face, looking through the view finder. Matty looks sinful. You clench your thighs together and his hips lift off the couch even more, a whimper falling past his lips. You take the photo.
“Knew you’d be so fucking eager. Could see ya eye fucking me since we got here.” Matty starts to unzip his pants, allowing his cock to be less constrained by the pressure. You don’t even think when your finger hits the button.
“Like you weren’t doing the same?” You shoot back, voice coming out breathier than intended. He lifted his hips up, pulling his jeans down past his thighs. He was left in his black Calvin Klein boxers. The imprint of his hard cock very much visible.
He strokes himself over his boxers, mouth parting slightly. “Watch that mouth, thought you were a good girl.” He groans out through gritted teeth. “Come here.”
You obey, of course. Walking straight to him, though your mouth gets the best of you. “Maybe you thought wrong.” You say with an innocent smile, the toes of your shoes hitting his. He grabs your wrist, bringing it to his dick. He moves your hand up and down, letting you feel all of him.
“Wanna be a brat for me, baby? Come on, take me out. I’ve got another use for that mouth.” You reach for his waistband, your camera still in your other hand. He notices the compromising position and takes it from you. You expect him to put it to the side, but he keeps it in his hand. “Get back on your knees.”
You lower yourself down, pulling Matty out fully. He’s pretty. His cock is long and thick, the tip slightly red with precum beading out from touching himself. “So big, Sir.” You look up at him through your lashes, pumping him twice. He whines out.
“Sir, huh?” He smirks, throat gravelly. You work your hands around his length more. Then, you hear it. The camera shutter. You look up, his eyes looking through the viewfinder.
“Can I suck you off?” You bat your eyelashes, waiting for permission. Matty’s hands falter, bringing the camera down slightly. He hums.
“Mhm, take your top off, sweetheart. Leave your bra and leggings.” You pull your hands off him, swiping your shirt over your head. You were wearing a blue bra with lace trim, and it pushed your tits together nicely. Thank you, Lord.
Matty started to pump his cock when your hand left, now working himself faster. “Open your mouth.” You submitted to him, quickly sticking your tongue out. You subconsciously pushed your breasts together with your elbows.
Matty slapped his dick on your tongue, loving the way your moans vibrated around him. He teased you, taking himself away to take another picture. “Please, please Sir.” You rock yourself on your heel, the desperation growing.
“Little slut,” He giggles, pressing his cock into your mouth. Groaning out when you close your lips around him. You could only take a little more than half of him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around his tip.
Your hands came up to work the rest of what didn’t fit. “Made for this, to take my cock.” You whined around him at that. Hollowing your cheeks and pulling off a bit. You say something around him that he can’t make out, and he bucks into your mouth.
Matty’s hand comes to rest on the back of your head, hand tangling in your hair. “Like that? Wanna be my fucktoy?” You nod around him, bringing one of your hands to rub yourself over your leggings. Matty guides your head down on him until you gag, letting you pull off and take a breath.
Tears welling in your eyes, you swallow your saliva and look back up at him. “I’m okay, please keep going. I like it.” You respond to the concerned look in his eyes, and he nods. Before you take him in your mouth again, you spit back on his cock.
“Fucking hell, shit.” Matty moans, throwing his head back on the frame of the couch. He pushes your head down again, making you take his whole cock in your mouth. You don’t gag this time, and he starts to move his hips.
He’s fucking your mouth, and you’ve never been more turned on in your life. You felt your knees starting to bruise, and you rubbed your cunt faster. The only thing separating you being two layers of fabric.
He pulled you off of him, then. Looking at you touching yourself. “Getting off on making me feel good? S’pathetic, baby.” He teased you, and you heard the camera go off yet again. “C’mon, up here. Gonna make you feel good.”
What a gentleman, you think. Not coming before you. The thought makes you giggle, but it’s interrupted by your own shriek when he pulls you onto the couch. He places you on his thigh, grinding you down against him. Your whines are constant and he’s not letting up. “Please, Matty. I want you.” You whimper.
Matty pulls his shirt over his head, throwing it to the side. You state shamelessly, taking in all of his tattoos. They make him even more attractive, and you know you’re only feeding his ego with your wide eyes and parted lips.
He flips your position, and now Matty’s on his knees before you. He pulls your leggings off briskly. Then, you’re only left in a bra and panties. He presses over the wet spot on your panties, and you jolt. He hooks his finger in them, and pulls them to the side.
His fingers run through your wetness, and you’re practically glistening under the studio lights. He slips his middle finger inside of you, but it’s gone as soon as it came. You squirm, needing to feel any kind of friction. He pulls you closer to him by your thighs, spreading your legs wide.
He’s just staring for a few minutes, until you feel him blow a gust of cold air onto your exposed cunt. You scream out, hips bucking off the couch. Matty lightly slaps your inner thigh. “Sh, don’t want our friends to know what a whore you are, right? Giving it up so easy for a guy you just met.” You hear the smirk in his words, his accent becoming thicker and breathing more rapid.
Without warning, he licks a bold stripe up the center of your pussy. You put your hand in front of your mouth, muffling the moans. Matty sees this, however, and has a different idea. He says something without lifting up from you, the feeling of his mouth making your eyes roll back. Finally, he pulls off of you. “Camera.”
You whine, “Huh?” The camera is suddenly being placed in your hand, the weight making you shake more. “Only fair you get some pictures of me. Had your photoshoot, now it’s my turn.” And with that, his mouth is back on you.
Matty licks your clit, pursing his lips and sucking. Your legs start to shake, and he brings his hand around to insert his middle finger in your hole. Your whole body goes weak, the light grip you have on the camera not helping.
Matty continues eating you, and he’s messy with it. You feel your slick on your inner thighs. His tongue goes inside of you, slowly moving in circles. He pulls off again, watching you clench around nothing before shoving his face between your thighs.
Your moans are nonsensical, bucking your hips off the couch and squirming uncontrollably. Matty spits on your cunt, moving his hand to pinch at your clit. “Fuck! Oh my God, Matty. Don’t tease.”
“God or Me, which one?” He laughs, pressing a light kiss to your clit. “You haven’t taken any photos, Miss ‘pro’.” He brings up Ross’ words from earlier, the realization causing you to smile. The smile is wiped away, though, when he runs his two fingers through your slit and puts them inside of you.
Your mind clears, and you finally take a photo. You don’t even bother to check the shot anymore, just clicking the button mindlessly. Matty grins and curls his fingers inside you. His tongue laying flat against your clit.
He sucks on you again, scissoring his fingers slowly. “Mm, please, Sir. Gonna cum, please.” You beg, hoping he won’t take it away from you. That he’ll just allow you to let go. You take another picture, the top of his hair and bottom of your abdomen most likely the only things visual.
“C’mon, baby. Cum for me and I’ll give you what you really want. Fill you up with this cock.” He stutters in his words, and you realize his other hand went down to lightly stroke himself. More precum that he’s been using to lubricate himself.
You cum with a shout, that’s muffled by his lips on yours. Matty swallows your moans, sticking his tongue in your mouth instead. You can barely taste yourself on his tongue, and you ride his fingers through your orgasm. “Matty, Matty. Shit, thank you.” You pant, chest heaving.
“Good girl.” He pats the top of your head condescendingly, snickering. He stands back up to his full height. “Don’t thank me yet, ‘M just getting started with you.” His hand comes behind your back, unclipping your bra and letting it fall to your lap. “Lift your hips up, love.”
You do as he says, letting him pull your panties off. He throws both scraps of fabric somewhere on the grand. His hand immediately going towards your tits. He grabs a handful, and starts kissing down your neck.
“Sir, need you now. Can’t wait anymore.” Matty’s lips attach to your collarbone. He bites you, sucking on the spot. He licks over the red mark, moving to another spot on your neck to do the same.
“You’ll fuckin’ wait if I make you. Do anything to please me, right?” You nod, head rolling to rest on your shoulder. You finally feel satisfied when Matty takes his cock, resting it just above your pussy.
He lines himself up, but never goes where you need him. He keeps bumping your clit, every time making your body twitch. He holds your hip in place, the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance. The only coherent thing coming out of your mouth is please, mixes of Matty and Sir.
He puts his tip inside of you, feeling you clench and then quickly pulling out. You whine, trying to move down the couch and put him back in. “Beg for me if you want it so bad, baby.” Matty is hard, and you know he must be aching as bad as you are. His cock and angry red, you know he needs to give in soon.
“Please! Please, I need it. Need you so bad.” You’re not above begging, obviously. And Matty loved it. He groaned, your wet cunt coming in contact with his dick again.
“Need what? Gotta use your words like a big, or I won’t know.” He rubbed his cock down your slit, pressing on top of your clit. He moved his hips forward slightly, and you squeezed your eyes shut.
You threw your head back, “You! Your cock, Matty. Need it inside me.” You tried to close your legs, clenching around nothing and needing friction. Matty gripped your inner thighs, prying them apart and pressing them to either end of the couch.
He lined himself up with your dripping hole again, slipping inside of you slightly. “Gonna give it to you, ruin you.” With that, Matty thrusted inside of you. He started slow, half his cock inside of you. He was stretching you out so good, letting you adjust. “More,” You grit out, teeth clenching in your head.
“Was gonna give it to you gently.” He pressed more of himself inside of you, watching you shake your head. His hand came up to grip your jaw, making you look at him. “You don’t want it slow, right? Just wanna be fucked dumb.” Matty pushed the rest of his cock inside of you. Finally, you were taking him in full.
“Yes! Yes, Sir.” You feel so whole, so full. It makes you want to scream, and you bring your knuckle to your mouth and bite down. You see Matty reaching behind your head for something, and see him with the camera in hand.
He pulls halfway out of you, and the camera shutters yet again. “Look at the way you grip me, christ. Just milking my cock. He starts pounding into you again, hips slapping against yours.
Matty has a steady rhythm, it feels so fucking good for you. You keep clenching around him, and you’re close again from your other orgasm. “Faster, sir. Please.” You jut your lips out. “Wanna cum.” Matty laughs.
“Thought you wanted to be my toy, huh? Sit so pretty for me and take it? That’s dirty, you know, babe. Toys don’t get to cum.” He pouts at you in faux sympathy, eyes casting down towards you. The leather couch was making you sweat now, his gaze piercing through you.
“Please, Sir. Need it so bad, I’ll be so good. I’ll be quiet.” You whined, hips coming off the couch before Matty’s strong hand pushes you back down. Letting your head fall back, a gasp escapes your mouth again when his hand attaches to your clit.
“You’re greedy. Already came once and begging like a slut for it again.” He presses down on your clit, thrusting into you harder. He does go faster, speeding up his rhythm. Your stomach turns and you know you won’t be able to hold it.
Matty’s hand comes to rest lightly on your throat, pressing his thumb into one of the hickeys. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Let go.”
You do, with a shout so loud Matty doesn’t even bother covering it. He’s too focused on reaching his own release. He speeds up even more, riding you through your orgasm and making you overstimulated. “Fuck, fuck. Good girl. Where can I cum, baby?”
“My mouth.” You say with no hesitation, and he pulls out of you cunt. Matty moves up slightly, and pumps his cock above you. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out, and the visual makes him cum. He throws his head back with a loud moan, letting his cock hit your bottom lip.
You swallow, holding his eye contact. He curses under his breath, picking the camera back up and taking a picture of you like that. Then, one with his thumb pulling on your bottom lip before he wipes the corner of your mouth with it.
You giggle. “You taste good.” You watch him step off the couch, searching for your clothes. He finds your underwear and bra, bringing it back over to you. When he realizes there’s nothing to clean you up with, he leans down and licks your cunt.
You shriek out. “Could say the same about how you taste.” He winks at you, handing you your clothes so you can get dressed. He goes to find his own and do the same. You hide your face in your hands.
“No way you’re shy, you just had my dick inside of you.” He rolls his eyes, throwing his shirt back on. Tone full of amusement and disbelief.
“Doesn’t mean you have to be vulgar.” You joke, strapping back into your leggings. The anxiety about Lexi and his band mates is hitting you now, but there’s no going back. “Thank you.”
He looks over, a wide grin on his face. Matty grabs your shoulders. “No, thank you. Best photoshoot of my career.” He walks over to the door, and you take long strides to catch up with him.
You smooth a hand over your hair and straighten out your clothes. It’s no use though, because when you open up the door and walk into the hall with Matty, they all know.
Lexi and the guys all stood there, knowing smiles on their faces. George even starts laughing when you both walk out. Adam’s head hung with his shoulders shaking, and Ross a smirk on his face.
“Think Matty got the all inclusive session, then?” George says, causing the rest of the group to burst out in laughter. You shrink in on yourself, looking over to see Matty’s grin. Lexi shoots you a look. A timid smile, but her eyes say ‘we’ll talk later.’
Matty giggles, humming. “Mhmm, don’t be jealous.” He shrugs looking between Lexi and you. “Contact us again for another shoot, then? We love your work, and would love to come back.” His eyes go to your face for the last bit, and you nod.
They all say their goodbyes, exchanging handshakes and stares. When they walk out, Matty catches your eye again through the window. Waving, and pulling out a cigarette.
…
Later, when you’re cleaning up the studio, you find a folded piece of paper under the front desk. A 10 digit phone number, a small heart and the words Matty scrawled under it.
#divider cred: @cafekitsune#matty healy x y/n#matty healy x you#matty healy x oc#matty healy blurb#matty healy oneshot#matty healy fluff#matty x reader#matty healy x reader#matty healy smut#matty healy fic#matty healy x fem reader#matty healy x fem!reader#photographer!reader
257 notes
·
View notes
Note
i have a request if possible ? for a tara carpenter x reader , or any jo character as you see fit , but in my head , it’s always been tara and no gf au-
so basically , if you’re familiar with 5 seconds of summer , every time i listen to them (their self titled album, specifically heartbreak girl) i always come up with like scenarios of r, mindy, amber and wes being 5sos basically and having r write that song about tara and how she’s always calling/texting r about the problems she’s having with chad without realizing that r is in love with her
which ofc leads r to go to amber, mindy and wes to write that song together and having them preform at a local bar/club or something because they’re locally known and tara, sam, chad and the rest of the friend group is in the crowd, being supportive- but once they hear the song , they immediately know who it’s about and just look at tara awkwardly , and- that’s as far as i’ve gotten
Heartbreak Girl
Tara Carpenter x gn!Reader (Request)
First of all, thank you for the request, it kind of just flowed out and here it is. I went with gender-neutral Reader since you didn't specify the gender. I hope you'll enjoy reading this.
Masterlist
Word count: 2.5k
It was happening again, your only saving grace being the fact you weren't there with Tara as she sobbed. You could almost see her, sobbing into her pillow to make sure Sam couldn't hear her.
And it broke your heart to hear you cry. It shattered it even more that she kept putting you through it again and again. Always for the same reason.
"I know I should have seen it coming, but it still hurts, you know? I still love Chad, I just can't get over him," she sobbed and you stopped pacing your room to lean back and rest your head against the wall. You knew the story, you heard it from Tara countless times. Tara and Chad were in a relationship, they worked the summer job together and met Liv. Chad fell in love and broke up with Tara. The rest was history, and Tara, sharing Chad's circle of friends, and still being in love with him, couldn't move on.
One time Tara told you she figured it would be easier if he cheated on her. He didn't. He just sat down with her one day and said how he felt. Two weeks later Chad and Liv went on their first date and the circumstances kept Tara and Chad as somewhat friends.
"I'm sorry for being a bother, Y/N," she must have noticed your silence.
"You're not being a bother, Tara, I just don't know what to say that I already didn't tell you before," you bit your bottom lip, knowing full well you were lying. You knew what you wanted to say. You wanted to tell her you loved her, that in her heartbreak she kept breaking your heart too. Another sob made you speak before you could think things through. "Let's go out, just the two of us," you suggest, realizing too late what you were saying. "As friends, of course, just to get your mind off of everything," you quickly backtracked, hoping the explanation was sufficient enough, hoping she couldn't hear the nervous tapping of your foot against the floor, or the crack in your voice when you said 'friends' or anything else that could give you away.
Because, as much as you loved her, as much as you wanted to be with her, you didn't want to push her into another relationship when she was vulnerable and still heartbroken. You also didn't want to be her way of getting over Chad and nothing more.
"I'd love to, Y/N," it sounded like she stopped crying. "Thanks for being my friend and always being there to cheer me up," her words, even if you just encouraged them yourself, still hurt you.
"Don't mention it, I'm here for you," you brush it off, subconsciously hoping maybe, just maybe, she'd realize how you feel on her own. You had no idea how mixed the signals you were sending her looked every now and then. In less than a minute you went from proclaiming friendly hanging out to promising to be there for her. "When do you want to meet up?"
Tara paused for a moment. "I'll call you tomorrow at ten to figure that out. Is that okay?"
You nodded and then frowned when you realized a moment later you were on the phone with her. "Of course."
And so you said your goodbyes, and you just slumped into the chair and dropped your head down to the table. A bit recklessly you tossed the phone to the bed on your side and silently expressed gratitude that it didn't hit the wall or drop to the floor. You sighed and placed your hands over your head, feeling like you were stuck in a never-ending cycle with Tara Carpenter.
Against your better judgment, you grabbed a pen and a piece of paper and began writing.
~X~
The friend date went well, better than you imagined it would and you and Tara hung out an hour longer than either of you anticipated. It was a nice change of pace and for a moment you actually convinced yourself you didn't feel anything romantic for her. For a moment, you were reminded of simpler times, when Tara really was just a friend in your eyes.
The paper waiting for you at your table broke that illusion and you grabbed your guitar, maybe you had something here after all. As you sat down to try different tunes you sent a message to the band, Mindy, Wes, and Amber, asking to meet up tomorrow for an additional practice.
~X~
The four of you met up in your garage where you kept your instruments, the guitars, and drums, anything else you needed you would just rent out for a couple of days. You were still a local band, so renting still saved you money.
"Let me see if I got everything right. You," Amber pointed at you, almost accusingly. "wrote this song about Tara and you don't want to confess how you feel?" she asked incredulously.
"Come on, it's not that obvious," you defended yourself and pointed at a line in the song. "See? Chad didn't exactly treat her bad, he just broke up with her."
"Yeah, sure, one line is going to convince everyone it isn't about Tara," Mindy added sarcastically and threw her arms up. "It's there for the dramatic effect, Y/N! Remember?"
"She got you there," Wes wasn't helping.
You picked up your guitar and began playing the tune you thought would work well with the song. "Listen, I think we got something good here," you tried to focus on the song itself. "Regardless of who it was written for," you muttered.
"You're kidding, right? A sad tune? You're making this a ballad? No way," Mindy went to her drums. "This needs more energy," judging by the tone of her voice she wasn't budging on this. Well, at least she was on board.
"We are totally adding 'Thanks for being a friend' to the lyrics," Amber teased and you just groaned and buried your face in your hands.
"Don't forget being a sucker for anything Tara does," Wes joined in, causing all three of them to laugh at you.
"You're the worst," you muttered, too embarrassed to look at them.
~X~
Over the next month and a half, you and Tara fell into a bit of a habit. The first two weeks she continued sobbing, and you'd ask her to hang out. The week after that she just complained and you still asked her to hang out. The past few weeks she rarely even mentioned Chad during your calls, but she still insisted you were friends.
Honestly, just the fact that she seemed to be moving on as weeks went by mended your own heart. Somewhere along the line, you found out you were fine with the way things were.
You walked her to her house, the backs of your hands occasionally brushing as you walked. The accidental touches became something both of you were comfortable with, as neither of you moved away from each other.
"You'll be performing tomorrow night, right?" Tara asked out of the blue.
You glanced at her and your eyes met. "Yeah. Are you going to come?" it wouldn't be the first time Tara would be in the crowd. Tara, Sam, Chad, Danny, Anika, and Liv were all supportive of your band, so they regularly came to your performances.
"You're not really asking that, are you? Of course, I'm going to come," she lightly jabbed your arm. "Besides, Mindy might have told me you guys have a new song you'll be performing for the first time in front of a crowd."
That little traitor.
With the way things were going between you and Tara, you were almost tempted to scrap the song, but the other three voted against it. "No pressure then, it's not like we haven't had a new song in almost four months now," what could you say, it was a bit of a drought period as far as creativity went.
Tara laughed and just for a moment you thought you saw something else in her eyes, something similar to the way you would so often look at her. "You'll do great," she offered a much-needed encouragement as the two of you stopped in front of her house.
"Guess this is it for tonight," you smiled at her.
"Mhm, I'm glad I was the one to ask you out tonight, as friends, of course," she took a step closer and tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. And then you froze when she got on her tiptoes and kissed your cheek. "Thank you, for always being there for me," somehow, this time she omitted the friend part.
"I," you cleared your throat. "did say I'd be here for you, didn't I?" you tried to brush it off as you usually did for months now.
The intensity of Tara's gaze captured all of your attention and for a moment you even considered leaning in. You didn't though, you weren't sure she felt the same, or that she actually moved on.
"I'll see you tomorrow night, then?" she asked, lowering her gaze to your lips before quickly looking away.
You noticed it, and you wondered if Tara could hear how loud your heart was drumming in your chest. "Y-yeah," you finally stepped back from her, and the tension you were trying so hard to ignore began fading.
~X~
Tara pretty much threw herself on her bed and buried her face in her pillow. This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all. What was wrong with her? Falling in love with you so quickly and almost out of nowhere. Especially when you so explicitly insisted on hanging out as friends. Perhaps you were insisting too hard to cover your own feelings? A girl could hope, right?
She turned her playlist on, hoping to find some peace in music. As if to spite her, the first song that played was Brian Fallon's You Have Stolen My Heart and she nearly chucked her phone into a wall. Groaning she turned around and tucked herself into a blanket. It was entirely your fault. With your charming smile and clumsy mixed signals, she could never entirely get a good read on them.
~X~
You were amazing on that improvised stage, just mesmerizing to watch and listen to and Tara found herself falling even harder. She also found herself ignoring Sam's teasing smile.
"Thank you, thank you! You are too kind! We'll wrap up the night with a premiere of our new song!" Wes yelled, hyping up the crowd.
"Let's hear an applause for Heartbreak Girl!" Mindy demanded, encouraging the crowd to interact with the four of you.
Tara was pulled to her feet by Anika and they both cheered. The name of the song, however, made Tara's heart skip a beat. Or was it the way you looked at her from the stage?
"You call me up, it's like a broken record, saying that your heart hurts.
That you'll never get over him getting over you, and you end up crying.
And I end up lying, 'cause I'm just a sucker for anything that you do," you sang, your eyes never leaving Tara's. It felt like there was no one else in the club but the two of you. But you weren't alone and Tara felt the awkward stares directed at the back of her head.
Did you actually write a song for her?
"And when then phone call finally ends, you say "Thanks for being a friend" and I'm going in circles again and again," now she had no doubt, that the song really was about her. She stopped cheering and just stood there, taking the lyrics in.
She saw you hesitating, probably since you noticed her reaction, and she just smiled. You smiled back and continued.
"I dedicate this song to you, the one who never sees the truth, that I can take away you hurt, Heartbreak girl.
Hold you tight straight through the daylight, I'm right here, when you gonna realize that I'm your cure, Heartbreak girl?" did you...? Were you saying what she thought you were saying?
She wasn't reading this wrong, was she?
"I bite my tongue, but I wanna scream out, you could be with me now.
But I end up telling you what you wanna hear, but you're not ready.
And it's so frustrating, he treats you so bad and I'm so good to you, it's not fair," her heart skips a beat as you continue, quoting the promise to call you tomorrow at ten and once again singing the chorus.
"I know someday it's gonna happen, and you'll finally forget the day you met him.
Sometimes I'm so close to confession, I gotta get it through your head, that you belong with me instead," the look in your eyes, the eyes that told her 'This is it, I can't take it back now' it vanquished any doubt she may have had about how you felt.
She just wondered how long you felt that way about her without saying anything? Definitely before you first asked her to hang out as friends, but how long before that?
~X~
The moment you ended the song and without any idea where the sudden boldness was coming from you jumped down from the stage and went over to Tara. You took a few deep breaths as you closed the distance and offered her your hand, the guitar still in your other hand.
Yeah, you didn't quite think that through.
Tara raised an eyebrow, clearly looking at the guitar, but then shrugged and took your hand.
"Uh, what now?" you asked sheepishly.
"Isn't that something you were supposed to figure out? Before you jumped down and came over?" she gave you a cheeky, teasing smile.
"I didn't think I'd get this far," you admitted, causing Tara to laugh.
"Just go behind the stage dumbass!" Mindy yelled, with the microphone still on. "And leave the guitar there while you're at it!"
You lowered your head and winced, trying to hide the blush on your face. Tara wasn't doing much better as she quickly pulled you behind the stage to escape the teasing.
You packed the guitar as both of you took time to compose yourself and catch a breath. "I really didn't think this through, did I?" you asked.
"No," Tara sat down on the chair near you. "You really didn't," she was fiddling with the loose thread on her shirt.
"I meant it, the song. Well, at least when I wrote it a month and a half ago," you decided to just be honest with her.
Tara raised her head to look at you, you could see hopefulness and uncertainty in her gaze. "What changed?"
You approached and sat down next to her. "I don't think you are still heartbroken," you took her hand.
Tara smiled. "I'm not. I'm in love with a clumsy musician that sucks at flirting," she leaned closer to you.
"Hey, it worked," you closed the distance, capturing her lips in a soft, gentle kiss.
"Mhm, how about we go on a proper date then?" she asked when the kiss ended and you couldn't think of any better idea.
#tara carpenter x reader#tara carpenter#tara carpenter x you#tara carpenter x gn!reader#scream#no ghostface au#band au#jenna ortega x reader
249 notes
·
View notes
Text
George R.R. Martin on the process of creating A Game Of Thrones
You hold in your hands the second volume of A Song of Ice and Fire… but not the second volume as originally intended. Although I wrote the opening of A Game of Thrones back in the summer of 1991, as related in my introduction to the Meisha Merlin edition of that volume, it was not until October of 1993 that I drew up a proposal for my agents to take to publishers. There is no mention of any book titled A Clash of Kings in that proposal. In 1993, I was under the impression that I was writing a trilogy.
Trilogies had been the dominant form in epic fantasy ever since J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings had been broken apart by publishers and released in three volumes. And the story that I wanted to tell divided quite naturally into three parts; much more so, in fact, than The Lord of the Rings, which is actually one fairly seamless narrative, and not a trilogy at all. I planned to title the books A Game of Thrones, A Dance with Dragons, and The Winds of Winter. I knew right from the start that they would all be large books. Huge books, even. But there were to be only three of them, and…and none were to be called A Clash of Kings. Sometimes the author is the last to know.
As I write this, I am halfway through the writing of A Feast for Crows, the fourth volume of my ‘trilogy.’ There is no mention of that title in my 1993 proposal either. These days, when pressed, I confidently assert that A Song of Ice and Fire will ultimately run to six books… but behind my back I know my lady Parris is smiling knowingly and holding up seven fingers. She may be right. Though I may dream of six books, plan for six books, work toward six books, the only thing that truly matters is the story. And the story needs to be as long as the story needs to be.
In Hollywood, the suits will tell you how long that is. A television show has to fit within its allotted time slot, of course, and you cannot beg, borrow, or steal an extra minute, no matter how much the story needs it. Running times are somewhat more flexible for films, though not as much as one might think. For the most part, the studios still want movies to run about two hours, so they look for screenplays of 120 pages or less, and demand cuts in any scripts that come in longer. My own screenplays and teleplays were almost always too long and too expensive in first draft, so in my later drafts, along with addressing the inevitable notes from studio, network, and producers, I was constantly trimming. In the end, I would deliver a shooting script that was the right length and under budget, but it was never a happy process… and I often went away feeling that the earlier drafts were the better ones.
The size of A Song of Ice and Fire was in no small part a reaction to ten years of trimming. I wanted to do something epic in scale, something at once grand and sprawling and complex and subtle, with a cast of thousands, huge battles, mighty castles, gorgeous costume, lavish feast, great rivers, towering mountains, vast fields… all the things I could not do in television. In short. I wanted to make a world. And for that you need a bit of room.
In my original proposal, I estimated that each volume of the trilogy might run as long as 800 pages in manuscript. The novels that I had written during the 70's and 80's, before Hollywood, had generally come in at 400 or 500 pages or thereabouts, so an 800 pages book seemed very lengthy indeed. The three books of the trilogy would be structured around the long, slow seasons of Westeros. A Game of Thrones would be summer’s book, A Dance with Dragons would take us through autumn, and The Winds of Winter… well, the title says it all. Even in the Seven Kingdoms, where a season can last for years, 800 pages ought to give me enough room to reach the end of summer and conclude the part of my tale, I reasoned.
‘Twas a lovely plan of battle… but no plan of battle ever survives contact with the enemy, it has been said. Writers know the truth of that as well as any general, though our wars are fought on blank white sheets of paper and empty computer screens. For the map is not the territory, the blueprint is not the house, the recipe is not the dinner… and the outline is never ever the book.
- George R.R. Martin, A Clash of Kings Limited Edition Introduction (2002)
#Ned Stark#Catelyn Stark#Sansa Stark#Arya Stark#Bran Stark#Jon Snow#Tyrion Lannister#Daenerys Targaryen#The Outline#A Game Of Thrones#George R.R. Martin#ValyrianScrolls#ASOIAF
124 notes
·
View notes
Note
so, i was thinking about tate fitting into the yandere trope (more than he already does lol) and being extremely obsessed with reader and when he decides to tell her about his feelings she tells him she's already in love with someone else. tate doesn't accept that, cause if he cant have her, nobody else cant
oh, i had fun with this one. hope you like it :)
~~~
His Obsession
Tate Langdon x f!reader
warnings: murder, torture, hints of smut, hints of suicide, stalking, very bad obsession (as the title says lol), abusive relationship, manipulation, idk what else
summary: since the moment he saw you moving in, tate knew you were going to be his. no matter what.
word count: 2.5k
~~~
Tate watches as you flip through the pages of your magazine. You’re lying on your bed, music blasting in your ears. Even if he was visible to you, he doubts you’d even know he’s there. You’re too busy looking at pictures of clothes and celebrities. You hum along to the song playing, your voice soft like velvet. What once made his invisible heart race now makes him sick. He feels a tear roll down his cheek as he watches you. How can you be so content? How?
He’s been watching you for months, half of it without your knowledge. He knew the second he saw you moving in with your family he needed to have you. He remembers watching you unpack boxes, making what used to be his room now yours. Within the first week of you being there, he warned every other ghost in the house to stay away. You are his, only his.
The first time he revealed himself to you, he pretended to be the boy next door. He remembers the look on your face as if it were yesterday. You stared at him with a look that made him almost feel as though he were alive again. It was like heaven. You let him hang out with you in your room, the connection between the two of you forming immediately. He remembers how easily you opened up to him, and how within only a week you wanted to be his friend. It went just as he planned.
On Halloween he took you out to the beach, it was the best night of his life. He often thinks back to how that night went. The sound of the waves crashing on the shore as you opened your legs for him for the first time. You were so willing, it almost made him angry. But he knew it must’ve been hard to resist him for that month before Halloween, so he gave you a pass on it.
He remembers everything about that night. The way you told him he was the sweetest boy you’ve ever met, the way you looked at him as though he was the only boy in the world. Even though he was the one who kissed you, you didn’t object for one second. In fact, you were the one who laid back on the towel and started to slide your pants off. He remembers how gentle he was with you, how he almost let it slip that he was in love with you. The way you made him feel that night was a feeling he never felt before in life or death. You were so warm, so tight. He could barely contain himself. It was everything he had dreamed of and more.
After that night, his obsession only grew. Suddenly, almost every time the two of you saw each other, you had sex. He thought you were in love with him too, so he let it happen. At least, that’s what he tells himself. Each time you came on to him, he felt like he was floating. You wanted him. You wanted him to do things to you that were special, that made two people as close as they could be. It felt like an honor.
“Oh Tate,” you’d moan. “You’re perfect.”
He would look at you, no matter what position, and think about how lucky he was to be with you. You were the girl of his dreams, his obsessions. He loved you more than anyone. If he could, he would die for you, he would kill for you. Both without a second thought. Even now, he still would.
Right now, he wipes the tear that fell down his cheek and reveals himself. He walks over to you, tapping you lightly. You flinch, but once you realize it’s him you smile and take off your headphones, patting the spot next to you on the bed for him to lay.
“Have you been here long?” You ask.
Tate shakes his head and gets onto your bed. “No, not really.”
“Oh, that’s good. All I’ve done today is be lazy. I actually thought about calling you but then my mom gave me this to read,” you say. You turn your head and he watches as you really look at his face. “Were you crying?”
“No, just allergies,” he lies.
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “I uh just came here to talk about what you said last time we saw each other.”
“Yeah...” you say, your smile disappearing. “I’m really sorry for that, I just thought you should know about him.”
“Who is he?” Tate asks. He doesn’t know whether he wants to cry or kill somebody. Perhaps he wants both.
“Just a guy from one of my classes. I don’t really know how it happened, we just clicked. Don’t think this means I don’t want to stop talking though Tate, of course I still want to see you. I just think we should strictly only be friends, nothing like what we were doing,” you answer.
Tate scoffs. “What we were? I thought we were in love, I thought you were my girlfriend. You told me you loved me.”
“And I do love you Tate, just not in the way you love me. You’re like my best friend, of course I have love for you,” you reply, only making the anger build inside him.
“You don’t hook up with your best friend,” he says. He stands up, his anger taking control. He runs his hands through his hair, he needs to calm down. “You told me you needed me. You told me I was your perfect boy. How is that friendly?”
You sit up, looking ashamed. “I don’t know. Maybe I thought I was in love with you but then I met Jake.”
Tate takes a deep breath before climbing back on the bed and taking your hands in his. You look him in the eye, guilt all over your face. He can’t help but want to kiss you. He wants all of this to be some sick joke, he wants you to take it back. How could you have him convinced the two of you were in love for months then one day say that’s never what it was? How could a person do that? More specifically though, how could you do that to him?
“I’m sorry Tate,” you mumble. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“So, take it back y/n, forget about this guy and stay with me. I want you to be mine, forever, I can’t ever just be your friend,” he replies.
You shake your head, tears forming in your eyes. “That can’t happen, it would never work out.”
“Yes, it would. Y/n, I will never let anyone, or anything hurt you, I’ll love you till the end of time I swear,” he argues. He lifts one of his hands and gently wipes a tear from your face. “Please.”
“Tate...” you whisper.
He doesn’t think before leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. He needs this, even if it’s the last time it ever happens. It’s no surprise that you don’t push him away, he knows you can’t help yourself either. Your lips move slowly against his. Both of you are crying now, your tears mix. But after only a few minutes he pulls away.
“You want me too, you know you do deep down,” he mumbles.
“It wouldn’t work, we’re not a good fit.”
“Your mind has been poisoned by that other guy; did you tell him about me?”
You nod.
“He just wants to turn you against me, he’s jealous of what we have,” Tate whispers.
His eyes are soft, tears still streaming down his face. He almost lets out a sob when you reach out and touch his face. Your sweet hands could never hurt a fly. He wraps his arms around you and pulls your body against his in a hug. It’s comforting, he loves how warm you are. He can hear your heart beat, it’s beautiful. He lies the two of you back down on the bed, his head resting on your chest.
“I can’t keep fighting without you,” he says.
“I know,” you reply. You move your fingers through his blond curls, he feels at peace.
“You make the bad thoughts go away, you make me feel normal,” he continues in a soft tone. “If you leave me, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
He looks up at you and sees how hard you’re trying not to cry. It pains him. He moves on top of you, his face hovering over yours. Your eyes are full of so many emotions, Tate can’t read them all. He leans down once again and kisses you. There are so many emotions flowing through the both of you and they all come out in this kiss. But this time, it becomes more than just a kiss.
Soon enough the two of you are doing what you do best, and even though he’s hurt Tate still can’t get enough of it. He slides inside of you gently, just like the first time. You drag your fingernails across his back, your head thrown back. Tate loves the expressions that form on your face, so fucking pretty.
He leans his head down so his lips are right next to your ear and whispers under his breath, “No one will ever make you feel as good as this, never.”
You don’t reply.
~~~
The first day you bring that guy over Tate watches darkly from the shadows. He hears what you say to him, the same things you used to say when the two of you were together. It makes him sick. He thought you changed your mind, but the day after everything went down you went back to your previous choice. You want Jake, not Tate. But he’s not going to let that happen.
When he goes to use the bathroom Tate strikes. He knocks him out with one swift blow to the head and drags his body down the stairs and into the basement. He ties him up in a chair and takes his phone, quickly texting you saying he had to go home early. Tate knows you won’t go down into the basement; it’s always scared you. He’s glad.
The guy, Jake, wakes up after ten minutes. He starts screaming, but his mouth is duct taped shut. He wiggles in the chair, it amuses Tate. He moves so fast the chair almost falls over, that’s when Tate emerges from the shadows. Jake stares at him, his eyes wide.
“I bet you’re wondering why you’re here right now,” Tate starts, Jake tries to rip out of the duct tape. “I can understand wanting her, I want her too. She’s the prettiest, sweetest, most wonderful girl I think either of us will ever know.”
He walks close to Jake, his dark eyes locked on him. “Only one of us can have her though and it’s going to be me. You see, once she starts to realize you aren’t returning her calls anymore, she’s going to be upset, and she’ll run back to me so fast you’ll just be a bad memory.”
Jake squirms in the chair as Tate walks back into the darkness. He returns within seconds though, a bloody stained hammer in his hand. The boy in the chair screams into the duct tape, it almost makes Tate smile. He walks to him again, stopping only a foot away.
“She’s mine, and you’re going to die with that thought in your head.”
With that, Tate starts to smash the hammer into the other boy's head, the sound of his skull cracking like music to his ears. He doesn’t go too hard though, no. He wants him to suffer. He smashes his kneecaps, his elbows, all while the poor boy is still alive. But when he gets too close to being dead Tate stops and drags his body outside, being careful so you won’t see. He throws the boy's body over the fence into Constance's yard, his spirit won’t even be able to reach you.
After he’s done, he cleans himself up and returns into the house, a smirk on his lips. You’re his again, he knows it.
~~~
“Tate, can I ask you something,” you speak.
The two of you are in your bed again, you’re lying on his chest. It’s been a week since he killed your boyfriend, and so far, he thinks he’s gotten away with it. The boy’s face was too mutilated to identify at first sight, and besides that Tate hasn’t heard his identification on the news or from you. He thinks it may be his perfect crime.
“Anything,” he says after a few seconds.
You sit up, covering your chest with the blanket. You look nervous. “Um, I know this may sound crazy but, did you kill Jake?”
“What?” Tate replies. How did you find out?
“That body in Constance’s yard, it was Jake,” you answer.
“Why would you assume it was me? Of course, I didn’t kill him that would be crazy,” he lies, pretending to be offended at your accusation.
“You were the only one who had a problem with him Tate, and you live right near my house. Listen I won’t- I won’t turn you in just tell me the truth,” you explain.
Tate sits up too and looks you in the eye. “Why does it matter? You’re back with me y/n, and since he’s been gone there haven’t been any issues between us. I thought you were happy.”
You scoff and get out of bed. “Tate you killed an innocent boy!”
“So what? We are happier without him; we are happier together. Whether I killed him or not those are the facts.”
“Are you serious?” You ask, a horrified expression on your face. “Did you do this so I would fuck you again?”
“No!” he exclaims, getting out of bed on the other side. “I did it so we could be together, I did it because I love you y/n. I love you way more than that jerk ever could.”
You pull on a t-shirt and underwear before heading toward the door. “This can’t be happening.”
Tate quickly pulls on his boxers and follows you. You’re about to open the door but he slams it shut with his hand. He towers over you from behind. He can see your hands are shaking, you’re afraid of him. He can’t have that.
“I’m not going to hurt you y/n, I would never hurt you,” he says softly.
“You’re a killer.”
“You love me, and deep down you’ve known what I’m capable of.”
You begin to cry. “How could I have been so stupid?”
“You aren’t stupid,” he tries to comfort you. He wraps his arms around your torso in a tight hug.
“Yes, I am, I fell in love with a monster,” you mumble.
Tate holds you close, his lips kissing the top of your head. It’s all coming together, he thinks. He knows you’re going to kill yourself soon, you can’t handle this. Once you’re dead he’ll finally be able to tell you the truth of this house. But by then you won’t be able to get out.
If he can’t have you, no one else will.
~~
a/n:
why did i just realize this can kinda be a prequel to a cruel punishment???
#evan peters#evan peters smut#evan peters x reader#fanfiction#james march x reader#jimmy darling#kai anderson#kit walker#tate langdon#tate langdon x y/n#tate langdon smut#tate langdon fanfic#tate ahs#ahs#american horror story#american horror murder house#tate langdon x you#tate pov mostly#ahs smut#ahs fanfic#ahs fandom
430 notes
·
View notes
Text
Two Pink Lines
Title: Two Pink Lines
Alt Title: I’ve Heard Worse News
Warnings: swearing, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of bad childhood
Pairing: Fezco x Reader x Platonic!Ash (lil bro ash and big sis reader ftw)
Disclaimer: I don’t own you or the euphoria franchise. I own the writing.
Rating: PG I reckon
Word count: 2k
A/N: I haven’t written anything in three months! I hope this doesn’t suck! I’ve had so much going on lately! I’ve gotten into my own place w my bf, I had a car crash, a major pregnancy scare, and a job promotion lol. I’m doing alright rn, so I figured I’d take the chance and finally get something out again! Thank you all for being so so kind and patient w my inconsistent ass 😂 I genuinely love all of y’all!!
✨✨
You sighed, placing the test face down on the counter. Music playing from your phone to try and ease your nerves. Snooze by SZA playing low as you slipped down the wall. You pulled your knees to your chest as you allowed the song to play through, your brain running the entire time.
The jokes you made to your boyfriend, Fez, were just that. Jokes. In no way did you actually think you were ready for children. You had just graduated from East Highland less than a week ago.
Your childhood wasn’t the most pleasant. You had been living with your boyfriend since you two were 13 and 14. Fez was all you knew, and you were all he knew. You knew everything about him and his life. His grandma, his job, his brother. And you fit like a glove in all of it. His grandmother took you in with open arms and loved you as her own.
You didn’t know what you’d do with a baby, you didn’t know where it would fit into your current life. You worked at the local breakfast place, it was like a Waffle House, but called MeeMaw Judy’s Home.
Your mind drifted to Fez. He didn’t want kids. You knew for a fact because he always told you “keep it movin’ ma”, everytime you passed baby aisles. Hell, the two of you even had talked about it last night. As far as Fezco was concerned, he didn’t see a baby in y’all’s plans for at least another 4 years.
The song ended and you took a deep breath. You couldn’t begin to explain how long those 3 minutes were. “Alright.” You whispered to yourself as you stood up, turning over the test you stared at them. Two pink lines. You’re not even sure you’ve ever seen pink lines so dark.
“Fuck.” You whispered as you placed the test on the counter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you said, voice cracking at the last fuck, tears welling in your eyes. You had false positives before, only for the next test to have been negative. But this time you knew you were pregnant. Nausea, fatigue, as well as paired with your period being late not one, but two weeks? Oh yea, your eggo is preggo.
Your thoughts ran to a complete halt as the door opened. “(Y/N)! Can you make waffles… what the fuck is all of this?” Ash asked, looking at the test on the counter. Your heart sank as you tried to explain. “Look, I just… just please get out. Please.” You pleaded, trying to push him out. “Hey, it’s ok. Stop stressin’. Y’a’int in trouble. Just… y’know. Take a deep breath.”
Ash grabbed your hand, thumb rubbing over your knuckles, a trait he picked up from Fez after he noticed it helped you calm down. “Ash, please. I need to think of how to tell Fez.” Ash shook his head before leading you to sit on the couch. “Worry about calmin’ your ass down first. You’re acting like your life is over. It’s just a baby.” Ash let go of your hand.
You felt yourself relax a little. How was he so calm? How is your life not over? Taking another look at the test, you grabbed it. “This wasn’t supposed to happen this way.” You walked out of the bathroom to the living room.
You sat on the couch and let go of the breath you were holding. “Why’re you so freaked out?” Ash asked, taking a seat next to you.
“Ash, you’re 14. I really don’t think any of this is your business. You’re too young.” You said, placing the test face down on the table.
“(Name).” Ash said plainly, looking at you.
“Okay. Fair.” You nodded, before taking a deep breath. You’re really about to vent to your boyfriend’s 14 year old brother? Well, it wouldn't be the first time. Ash looked at you as a mother figure, seeing as his only real one was incapacitated.
“Fez doesn’t want kids. Not now at least.” You
“Well, ya should’ve been safer, huh?” He crossed his arms. “What’s the plan (Y/N)?” Ash asked you, leaning back into the couch.
“I don’t know. Haven’t thought that far ahead. A minute ago I found out I’m…” The words got caught in your throat as you leaned onto the couch as well. “You think MeeMaw’ll let me bring a kid to work?” You half joked.
“I’ve seen what she allows, it wouldn’t surprise me.” Ash said, a small smile finding itself on his rather stoic face.
Mrs. Judy, or MeeMaw as you and everyone called her, was a kinder old lady. Standing at a firm 4’10 inches, she’s seen a thing or two. She was always kind to you, making sure you had food to bring home to the boys. She knew your upbringing and the conditions that landed you to who you became.
“When’s Fez supposed to come home anyways?” You asked Ash. “Not sure. He’s sellin’ at some kid’s party tonight. What’s her name, Kat, I think?” He shrugged. “He probably won’t be home until midnight then,” you sighed, rubbing your face, “gives me at least 2 hours to think about what I’m gonna do.”
“I got somethin’ you can do then.”
“Waffles?” You half-laughed, looking at Ash through your fingers. “I think we need to buy eggs and milk for it actually.”
“Damn.” He placed his arms next to his sides. “We can watch a movie?” You suggested. “I got Maddy’s Netflix.” You shrugged.
“Better than waitin’ around for nothin’.” Ash grabbed the remote and handed it to you.
Turning on a movie on Netflix, some random movie by Adam Sandler, who’s movies were yours and Ash’s favorite way to pass time.
He quickly tuned into it, but your eyes glued onto the white slender test. Millions of thoughts ran through your mind.
Was Fez gonna be mad?
Was he gonna leave? Or more so, make you leave?
Was he gonna tell you it’s ok?
Was he gonna marry you? God, what a thought. Marriage wasn’t a bad thing, by no means. When it works.
By 12, your mother had been married 6 times, and two of them were remarriages to your father. Screaming, crashing and crying was no stranger to you.
You remember the argument your parents had that led them to that final divorce and you into Fez’s home.
“(Mother Name)! What’s this shit? You’re pregnant? Again?!”
“I was gonna tell you! You went snooping through the trash? Are you fucking insane?!” CRASH, you heard as the test that was thrown at the picture frame that had a picture of you holding your half-brother. You sniffed the tears back as you packed your bag faster.
“You should’ve wrapped it if you didn’t want this shit!” She screamed at him. “Fuck that! You’re just as much to blame! Is it even mine, whore?!”
“Oh fuck you, you bastard!”
“No thank you! That’s how we landed here! Just go! Go and fucking take your goddamn mistakes with you!”
Mistake? That’s all your father thought of you?
“You act like I wanted to get pregnant again, or any time beforehand! I didn’t want these fucking kids anymore than you or Jerald and Will did! Besides, (Name) is the only one here!”
Nevermind, there was your mother being the way she was. You looked at the broken glass on the floor as you stood in the doorframe.
“I’m not going with her.” You stated, in your broken little voice. “You’re not fucking staying with me.”
“I wasn’t fucking planning on it.” You walked past your father. “The fuck are you going?” Your mother asked.
“Why do you care?” You grabbed the doorknob, the rest of your body turning to look at your parents. “I’m a mistake to both of you, so why is it such a big fucking deal if I just grant you both your wish of getting out of your hair?” You asked them, tears free-flowing down your cheeks.
“Why the hell did you have kids if you hate them?” You asked them. “Why do I have to be an adult when I’m 13?”
Your parents stared at you, expression unrecognizable. “Well, just so you know, I hate you guys. So don’t worry, the feelings aren’t one sided.” You opened the door and walked out, closing it behind you.
You used your finger to wipe the tear that began to slip down your cheek. You haven’t seen your parents since that day, hell, you don’t even know if they’re alive or dead. You sent a graduation invitation to the house your mother lived at, but received the initiation back with RETURN TO SENDER in red letters over your face.
You looked over at Ash, who was fast asleep with his head on your lap. You smiled a little at him, and your gaze returned to the test.
Your phone began ringing from the bathroom and you gently placed Ash’s head on the couch. He curled up in a ball as he got re-comfortable. You walked to the bathroom and grabbed your phone.
Answering the call, you placed the phone to your ear. “Hey ma.” Fez’s voice sounded like honey over the phone. “Hey baby.” You said, holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder as you threw the box in the trash. “Ash ‘sleep?” He asked.
“Mhm.” You answered, walking back to the living room to grab the test.
“You good?” He asked into the phone as you heard his blinker. “Yea… no. I just… we gotta talk when you get home.” You answered, walking to the front door. “I’ll just meet you at the car so we can talk without waking up Ash.” You told him, hanging the phone up.
You walked to the front of the house and leaned against the gate. You put the test in your bra as you waited.
Your breath got caught in your throat as you watched the bright lights pull in front of you. Putting your head down you walked over to the passenger seat and got in.
“What’s wrong?” He looked at you, his hand moving to hold your face. His hand rested on your cheek as he made you look at him. “Whatever it is, ma, it’s gonna be aight.” He said, thumb stroking the soft flesh of your cheek.
Your lip quivered as you let go of the breath you were holding. “I’m pregnant, Fez.” You said straight out, taking the test out of your bra to hand to him, eyes drifting to the floor.
“Oh.” His hand leaves your cheek to grab the test, turning on an overhead light, he looks at it. “I’m sorry.” You sniffed, eyes welling with tears as you stared at your feet on the floorboard.
“Whatchu sorry for? This ain’t bad news. I thought you was finna tell me someone died.” He looked at you. “It ain’t like we knew it was gonna happen. Shit happens, ma. We’ll figure it out, somehow. Hell, grandma did.”
“You’re not mad?” You asked him. “I’m not thrilled. But that part ain’t important no more.” He took your face in his hands, test between his fingers. “You’re what’s important to me, ma. Without you, I don’t know where I’d be.” He kissed you softly. “We’re gonna have a baby. I’ve heard of worse news from you.” He said against your lips.
“I was scared you’d yell at me.” You confessed.
“Yell?” He pulled away from you. “Not about somethin’ like this.” He shook his head. “We got other shit to worry about rather than yellin’. Yellin’ ain’t gon’ get anything done other than stress my babies out.” He said simply.
“I got milk and eggs. Ash texted me.” He said.
“I guess I ain’t getting out of making them waffles, huh?”
“You figured you know better about that.” Fez half joked, grabbing the milk and eggs bag from the backseat.
“Now come on, I’m tired. It’s been a long night. We can talk more in the morning.” You patted his thigh and kissed his cheek.
He laughed a little and nodded his head. “Alright ma.”
#des’ writing#euphoria x reader#desi’s oneshot#desi’s writing#fezco x reader#euphoria fez#euphoria fezco x reader#euphoria imagine#fezco imagine
687 notes
·
View notes
Text
a/n: this one actively broke my heart while writing it and i hope i did the topic justice. title came from a song on @pyotrkochetkov ‘s barzy playlist and i just knew i had to write something angsty for it. a bunch more happy and smutty long fics and headcanons are coming! seriously, let me know what you thought of this one - much heavier and angstier than i usually write 😬 ignore any inconsistencies, i’m not an expert on this particular medical procedure or professional hockey team travel
word count: 7k
tw: miscarriage, subsequent emotions
summary: on a mini trip to vancouver to watch andrei play, you suffer the worst loss of your life. andrei is your rock throughout the ordeal
Vancouver is a fun city - maybe not as fun as Raleigh or New York, but fun nevertheless - and you’re excited that part of the Canes’ Western road trip fell close to Thanksgiving weekend so you could join in for a bit of it without having to miss too much time at work. Part of your goal this season, your first married to Andrei, is to see him play in every arena. You’ve managed a few of the east coast arenas so far, but this is your first time out west. Nykki joined you too, so it’s like a mini-girls’ trip rolled into a ‘supporting our men’ trip.
The team’s there before you and Nykki get to Vancouver, having already played in Seattle two days before. It’s actually been slightly more than a week since you’ve seen Andrei in person and you miss him a lot. You’ve been with him for four years now, so you’re used to the travel and not seeing him for chunks of time, but this week feels extra hard. Luckily, after this little West Coast swing, Andrei will be home for a good chunk of time - the quirks of the NHL schedule are always insane to you.
You and Nykki get dinner before the game, discussing her wedding plans. It’s scheduled for early August, but time is already flying. You’re a bridesmaid, but you’ve been pushing off picking a dress, knowing that it’s not going to fit you by the time the wedding happens. Your fingers curl carefully against your stomach, hidden by the table and the bulk of your sweater, your little secret.
Butterflies roll in your stomach, excitement mingling with nerves, knowing that you’re going to tell Andrei the news after the game tonight. It’s so early in your marriage, and you’re definitely freaking out a little bit, but the idea of a little baby that looks like Andrei is enough to help the excitement win out.
“Martin wants to do Bali for the honeymoon,” Nykki tells you while you find your way to your seats. You bought tickets for the lower bowl, wanting to be in the middle of the crowd and all the excitement. The Canucks fans are already a little rowdy, with warmups halfway over. There’s a few Canes jerseys smattered through the crowd, but it’s certainly an uneven match.
You sip at your overly large Coke, your stomach turning a little. Dinner isn’t sitting right with you, but it’s manageable for now. “Bali’s nice, I mean, so I’ve heard. But what’s the weather like in August?”
Nykki points at you, her other fingers wrapped around her beer can. “That’s what I said! I thought it would be unbearably hot and humid, but apparently it’s gorgeous - 86 and barely any rain,” she grins. “I promised he could be in charge of the honeymoon, so I think we’re going to Bali.”
“Well,” you smirk back, “there are worse places to spend two weeks with your gorgeous NHL player husband, Nyk.”
She laughs and takes a sip of her beer, eyes twinkling. “You have a point there. How about you and Andrei? What are the big summer vacation plans?”
You pause, thinking of an answer because you’re anticipating having a newborn this summer, so a vacation isn’t likely to happen. Andrei’s been floating the idea of a mini European tour - hitting Rome and Paris for a few days each before heading to Russia for a little bit to visit family. But you haven’t really committed to plans since it’s only November and you have plenty of time. “We haven’t really talked about it,” you answer Nykki truthfully. “Drei’s been focused on the season and I’ve been busy with work. He doesn’t like to plan anything before the end of the regular season anyway.”
“Superstition,” Nykki sing-songs, putting her beer in the cup holder as she stands for the anthems. You get to your feet, pulling off your baseball hat and holding it over your heart, humming along with both anthems. You shift your weight from foot to foot, stretching out your lower back a little.
The puck drops and the game starts - Andrei’s almost immediately put in the penalty box, complaining and shouting at the ref the entire time he skates over. His hands fly in the air as he gestures, but his passion isn’t moving the ref at all and he takes his seat in the box, slumping down. You laugh, shaking your head affectionately. He’s a sweetheart off-ice, but on the ice, Andrei is a borderline criminal. He’s leading the team in penalty minutes and you’ve definitely heard plenty about how he doesn’t deserve it.
The game clock ticks down, Andrei’s released from the box and immediately scores on a breakaway. You and Nykki jump from your seats, screaming and cheering with the Canes up one to nothing. The Vancouver fans around you glare and chirp, but you and Nykki just laugh, giving back as good as you get.
It’s pure fun to be supporting the visiting team and you and Nykki thoroughly enjoy yourselves, dancing to the music and gossiping during TV timeouts and slower moments. Nykki gets another beer and you refill your soda, your stomach still acting up. The popcorn Nykki gets is too salty and you end up joining the crowd when they start throwing their own snacks at the refs. It’s a penalty called on the Canucks, which is good news for you, but the crowds enthusiasm is infectious.
The fans of the Canadian teams are definitely a little more intense and vocal with their displeasure with the refs, you’ve noticed. A particularly obscene chant breaks out when Brady dances around one of the Canucks’ defensemen to set up a powerplay goal for Brent Burns.
You and Nykki throw your arms up and cheer, screaming yourselves silly. Your stomach cramps a little and it puts a damper on the celebration and also serves as a reminder that you really need to see a GI doctor to determine if you’re actually lactose intolerant or if you have a gluten allergy. You grimace and sit back down, clenching your stomach a little, which seems to help. The rest of the second period flies by and the boys are up two to one.
The people around you start to shuffle off to get more food or go to the bathroom, now that the second intermission has started. You finish the rest of your soda and shift in your seat. Nykki looks over at you curiously. “You okay? You seem like you’re kind of uncomfortable,” she says, twisting her hair back into a ponytail.
“I’m fine,” you hum. “My back is killing me though. I must’ve tweaked it on the flight over.”
“You want an Advil?” Nykki’s already shaking around her purse and you can hear things rattling around.
“Let me go refill my drink, pee, and then yeah, I’ll take an Advil,” you reply, holding the reusable cup to your chest and getting out of your seat. Nykki pulls her knees to the side and you scoot past her, stopping when she makes a little noise. “What?”
“Babe, I think you need a tampon too,” she whispers, gesturing to the back of your jeans.
Your eyebrows draw together. You’re not getting your period anymore. “Tamp-?” The word catches in your throat and your eyes go wide. Your mind spins as the pieces start clicking into place and, as if to serve as the final kick in the ass sign, your lower stomach twists unpleasantly with a sharp cramp. Tears fill your eyes and you reach down to grab Nykki’s hand. “Um, surprise, I’m pregnant, but maybe see should go to the hospital or an urgent care?”
Half a dozen emotions cross Nykki’s face before it settles on shock, but all you can focus on now is the persistent cramping in your stomach. The cramping that’s been bothering you all day and you ignored, thinking nothing of it. God, you’re a terrible mother already.
“Okay, okay,” Nykki jumps to her feet, squeezing your fingers and dragging you out of the row and up the stairs to the main concourse. Her other hand is gripping her phone tightly and she’s jabbing at it with her thumb. “I’m calling an Uber. The hospital is like a ten minute drive.”
You nod, feeling numb as Nykki drags you along, your feet stumbling to keep up as you dart around the people waiting in lines for the bathroom and for food. How could your whole night - your whole life - have just taken a complete one-eighty in the matter of minutes. The cold Vancouver air hits your face like a slap, shocking some feeling back into your body. You wish it hadn’t.
The cramping is worse, the feeling between your legs - blood - like free bleeding during your period, but worse, so much worse.
Your stomach lurches and you rip your hand from Nykki’s grasp, bending at the waist and vomiting into a bush next to the entrance to the arena. “Oh, it’s going to be okay. Let it out,” Nykki’s voice is soothing and she rubs a hand in between your shoulder blades while your stomach seizes and you vomit again, spitting into the dirt.
Tears streak down your cheeks and your throat burns now. “I want Andrei,” you whisper, heart clenching with grief.
“Let’s get you to the hospital,” Nykki guides you towards the rideshare pick-up area, where a four-door sedan is already waiting. “I’ll get a hold of him somehow, but let’s take care of you first, okay?”
You let her bundle you into the backseat of the car and swallow back your tears, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes hard enough to see starbursts. Forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you try to calm down, you don’t know what’s happening for sure. Even though it feels very much like the end of something, you have to find a little piece of hope to keep yourself sane. The driver catches your eye in the rear view mirror as he pulls out of the arena parking lot, his mouth twisted down in a concerned frown even as his eyes are slightly judgmental. He’s driving you from a hockey game to a hospital - god knows what he’s thinking about you.
Nykki squeezes your knee and smiles gently at you, even as she’s typing on her phone with her other hand. “It’s still intermission, no one’s going to have their phone on them, but I’m trying to see if I can get through to one of the trainers or something. Just stay calm and we’ll figure it out,” she’s no-nonsense and you’re so grateful for her taking control of the situation.
Your lower back complains as the driver hits a pothole and another leak of fluid rushes between your legs. The drive is too long and too short all at once and before you know it, you’re being admitted to the Vancouver General Hospital emergency room and deposited on a bed, a curtain drawn around you. A nurse with warm, sympathetic eyes and a kind smile does your intake, her lips twisting to to side as you’re answering her questions.
“I just found out a few days ago,” you whisper, starting your fingers together. “I haven’t even told my husband.”
“Mrs. Svechnikov,” the nurse pats your arm comfortingly, “we really don’t know anything for sure until we get an ultrasound. Try not to put added stress on your body.”
You don’t even bother correcting her about your last name, the Russian name sounding strange in her Canadian accent. Nykki comes behind the curtain, clutching her phone. “There’s about ten minutes left in the third,” she says. “I can’t get ahold of anyone, but I’ll keep trying.”
“We’re going to get an OB down here and check everything out, okay?” The nurse says kindly, but brusquely, and then disappears back into the main emergency room. You roll your neck so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and a few tears leak out of your eyes.
“You didn’t leave any messages or anything for Andrei, right?” You ask. “I don’t want him to see and freak out.”
Nykki brushes your hair off your forehead and shakes her head. “No, I left a few messages for Martin to call me as soon as he could. I figure I’ll get to Andrei that way. Do you need anything?”
“Just Andrei,” you hiccup a sob, pressing a shaking hand to your mouth. Your other hand hovers over your stomach, afraid to touch it. The bleeding hasn’t stopped, so despite what the nurse said, you know it’s a miscarriage. Your stomach rolls and you press your lips together tightly so you don’t vomit.
“I’ll get him here as fast as I can,” Nykki reassures you. While you wait for the OB, she absently braids your hair back from your face, tying it off in an efficient, utilitarian French braid down your back. She talks as she works, trying to distract you, and you’re grateful for her efforts even if they don’t work. All you can think about is the little life that had been growing in you just a few hours ago. Your heart lurches painfully when you realize Andrei’s going to find out about the pregnancy and the loss all at once.
The OB is a middle-aged Black woman with a slight Canadian accent who introduces herself as Doctor Hayes and she doesn’t sugarcoat the news, which you appreciate. “I’m very sorry, Mrs. Svechnikov,” she sighs, looking very much like she hates this part of her job. “But you are actively miscarrying right now. We’re going to admit you overnight for monitoring and will reevaluate in the morning.”
Your entire body goes cold at her words and you grip Nykki’s hand - you hadn’t let her leave your side, terrified to be alone. A cramp rips through your lower body and you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood. “What-“ your voice is hoarse and you clear your throat, trying again, “what, um, are the next steps?”
Doctor Hayes rests her hands on the guard railing on your bed. “Well, we’ll have you on a hydration IV throughout the night while we monitor the miscarriage. There may be a need for a D and C, to make sure it’s complete and there’s no tissue left behind.” Your face blanches as she talks. “But all of that will depend on what happens tonight.”
“Thank you,” you murmur and she pats your hand gently, sympathetically, as she leaves. You can hear her giving the nurse instructions and you slump back against the pillows, completely drained.
Nykki checks her Apple Watch and grimaces. “It’s Martin. I’ll be right back, okay?”
“Be gentle with Andrei, okay?” You reply, desperately wanting him at your side, but also wanting to protect him from this heartbreak a little longer.
She’s back in a few minutes, after the nurse has started you on an IV. “Martin’s going to bring him over,” she says, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t tell him why you were here, just that you started to not feel well during the second,” she says. “It sounded like Andrei was halfway out the door before Martin could finish his sentence.”
You nod faintly. That sounds like Andrei. “I hope they don’t get slammed by Rod for leaving…” You twist your wedding rings around your finger, the diamonds catching the fluorescent lighting.
“They won’t,” Nykki says firmly. “He’d have to be a real bastard to punish Andrei for coming to the hospital for you. Besides, someone should’ve been available to get Andrei here earlier! It’s ridiculous.”
“Let him have an extra hour of normalcy,” you sigh, shifting on the bed, sore and uncomfortable.
You’re moved into a private room and given a hospital gown that bares your entire back and ass. A giant pad that’s probably as big as a damn puppy pee pad is wedged in between your legs to contain the bleeding and the IV is tugging unpleasantly at your skin. Nykki’s waiting downstairs to bring Andrei directly to you and you hope he’s here soon because now that you’re alone, the reality of the situation is sinking in and your chest is starting to feel tight. You turn your head and try to bury your face in the pillow, but you catch a whiff of the lingering Tom Ford Lost Cherry perfume you’d applied earlier mixed with antiseptic and sterile hospital smell and your brain briefly registers that it’s a shame, because you really love this perfume and now you’ll never be able to wear it again. Your heart thumps painfully in your chest, a reminder that you’re losing more and more of your baby with each passing second.
You hear him before you see him, the pounding of his footsteps echoing through the hallways. He’s running down the hall, that much is clear, and when you look over at the door, you catch the blur of Andrei skipping completely past your room before he doubles back and skids to a stop in the doorway.
He looks terrible - hair still damp with sweat, the red mark across his forehead from his helmet is still prominent, and he looks like he got dressed in the dark - or an extreme hurry - in a pair of basketball shorts and his button down with the buttons done up all wrong. But it’s the look of complete panic in his eyes that scares you the most. Andrei never looks that panicked.
“Solnyshka,” he breathes, his shoulders dropping from around his ears. In three long strides he’s at your side, holding your hand, and you finally feel like you can breathe.
“Hi,” you whisper before bursting into tears.
“Hi,” he replies softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. His grip is almost painful, but you welcome it as you hiccup. “What’s going on, solnyshka?”
Insanely, the only words that come out of your mouth are, “your shirt is buttoned wrong.”
Andrei looks surprised, “what?” he asks absently as his gaze flickers down to his shirt. He shakes his head, “I rush. Solnyshka,” his voice is high and nervous, “what is going on? Neci didn’t know anything. Just that you’re here, in hospital.”
“I…Andrei, I’m so sorry,” the words rush out of your mouth on a flood of fresh tears. “I was pregnant and now I’m not. I lost the baby.”
You’re not even sure if Andrei can even understand you, you’re crying so hard. But one glance at his face and the completely shattered expression it wears, and you know he understood you. His fingers tighten around yours and he’s shaking his head, hair falling forward over his forehead.
“What? I don’t - a baby?” He rubs at his forehead with his other hand, eyebrows pinched together in confusion. “When did you - why didn’t -“
He can’t seem to get a full sentence out and it only makes you cry harder, your entire body hurting with the effort. You know what he’s asking though.
“Last week,” you manage. “The day after you left. I was going to tell you tonight, but…” You trail off, shrugging one shoulder.
Andrei’s head hangs, chin to chest, and he makes a little noise in the back of his throat. “I’m so sorry, milaya,” he says, voice hoarse. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”
The worst of your tears are drying up and you shake your head. “It’s not…I had Nyk. I hate that you had to find out like this. Baby and then no baby, all at once,” your voice cracks and you trace the little embroidered A.S. on his cuff, barely able to look at him.
Your husband sighs and drops his head so he can rest his forehead against yours. He smells like sweat and fear and Old Spice and your throat clogs with emotion again. “I thought…” he breathes. “I hear hospital and I think the worst. I thought the worst.”
This is the worst, you think. The worst possible thing. But you know what he means, that he thought something even more awful had happened to you, that he was worried he lost you because he didn’t know there was something else to lose.
Andrei’s lips brush against your cheek, soft and delicate, the rasp of his stubble a stark contrast. You sit like that, foreheads touching, for who knows how long. Andrei doesn’t cry, but his chest hitches and you think he might, maybe, when it all sinks in. You’re all cried out and now there’s just bone-deep exhaustion.
“i’m tired,” you murmur, the words getting lost between you.
Andrei nods against your forehead and pulls back, looking like it takes him a huge effort to sit back up. He cups your cheek and his thumb strokes a careful arc over your cheekbone. You lean into the familiar gesture, comforted. “Sleep, okay? I’ll…I have to call Rod. Get my stuff. I’ll take care of everything,” his voice is steady, but his eyes are clouded.
You nod, your eyelids already closing. Andrei gets up and brushes his lips over your forehead, murmuring that he loves you. Once he’s outside the room, you can hear him talking quietly to Nykki and Martin, but your grief and exhaustion pull you under before you can really concentrate on what he’s saying.
Sleep doesn’t last and you’re awake again after a few hours. You blink awake blearily, confused for a second before everything comes rushing back. Andrei’s scrunched up in a chair in the corner, his chin propped up on the palm of his hand, eyes shut. He changed in the time since he left, now dressed in a pair of jeans and a plain black t-shirt. His legs are kicked out in front of him, a pair of white sneakers on his feet. You don’t want to wake him, but when you shift, a sharp pain pierces your side and you gasp loudly before biting down hard on your tongue to muffle the noise. It doesn’t work and Andrei’s eyes fly open, his entire body jerking.
“Hey,” he’s at your side in a second, “what hurts? I call a nurse?” His accent is thick with sleep and worry.
You shake your head, the pain subsiding. “I’m fine.” And you are, the worst of the cramps are gone, leaving just a vague soreness and uncomfortable tightness in your chest and stomach. “You should’ve gone back to the hotel.”
“And leave you?” Andrei looks at you like you’re crazy. He shakes his head. “I got my bag and Nykki brought yours back. Do you want anything?”
“No,” you reach for his hand and lace your fingers together. “I just want to go home.”
He nods, looking exhausted. “Me too. I spoke to Rod, if you’re discharged later today then you come with us on the plane. If not, I stay and come home with you when you’re ready,” his lips quirk up at the corner when you start to protest. “Is decided, solnyshka. I’m not leaving your side.”
“But…” you trail off, all the arguments that you can think of fading when you realize that you don’t want to be separated from Andrei, not right now. “Okay,” you whisper.
“Good,” he chuckles under his breath. “I don’t want to argue with you.”
“No arguments from me,” you reply dryly, rolling your head so your cheek is on the pillow and you can look directly at him. “Why don’t you try and sleep some more? I’m not going anywhere.”
His jaw tightens a bit. “Can’t sleep,” he replies, even though you had just seen him asleep. “If the doctor comes, I want to be awake.”
You nod again, sore and tired, and Andrei just sits with you quietly for a while before you think to ask, “how was the game?”
He snorts. “We won, but who cares?” It’s such an unexpected answer - Andrei’s never not cared about winning a game - and it startles you into silence.
A nurse comes in a few minutes later, saving you from having to find an answer. She introduces herself as Kayla and speaks in a soft, but firm tone. You’re starting to recognize the undercurrent of apology and sympathy in the nurses and doctors’ tones and you’re beginning to hate it. Andrei doesn’t let go of your hand while she checks your vitals and puts another bag of saline on the IV pole. “The OB will be in soon to do another ultrasound and see if you need a D and C,” Kayla says gently. “But everything else looks good. You won’t be staying another night and I would guess that you’ll be out of here by early afternoon at the latest, either way.”
You nod robotically, not really absorbing what she’s saying. By this afternoon, everything will be over and you’ll for sure, 100% not be pregnant anymore. It’s a gut punch, even though you knew this was coming. Andrei asks the nurse a few more questions before she leaves, but you don’t really listen, focusing on a small stain on a ceiling tile. It looks like nothing at all, just a blob of brown, but the more you stare at it, the more your vision unfocuses, the more it starts to look like one of those stereotypical ultrasound blobs.
You don’t even realize that you’re crying again until Andrei wipes the tears from your cheeks. “Try and sleep again,” he murmurs, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “I think you’ll need strength.”
“Can you get me some water?” You ask, running your hands over the braid Nykki had done. It’s so messy and it feels like she fixed it a million years ago, but it was only four or five hours. It feels like another lifetime, sitting in the arena and joking around with her. From halfway through second intermission to a hospital room at 2 a.m. Certainly not how you were picturing the end of your trip to Vancouver.
You think you must fall asleep again because the next thing you know, there’s sun coming through the window and Andrei’s at your side again, his large hand resting on the top of your head, cradling the crown. Unfamiliar doctors and nurses are in the room and they all speak to you and Andrei, but the only words you hear are “incomplete miscarriage” and “quick procedure” before you’re being shuffled off to an operating room. It all happens too fast for you to even be scared and the last thing you remember before the anesthesia is Andrei by your ear, whispering in Russian to you, the spicy scent of his deodorant filling your senses.
Andrei’s there again, when you wake up, eyes looking red and face drawn. You’re barely conscious, but the sigh of relief he exhales permeates the fog. His hand is warm in yours and you manage a weak smile at him. “Hey there handsome,” you croak and he laughs weakly. “Miss me?”
“You…” Andrei coughs, “I love you very much.”
“Love you,” your words slur a bit. “I wanna go home.”
“Soon, solnyshka,” Andrei promises, stroking your hair. “Soon.” He’s still stroking your hair when you fall asleep again.
When you wake up again, the overwhelming sense of emptiness is what you notice first. Then Andrei comes into focus again, his weight of his head resting on your leg, his hand on your hip. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not, but you gently run your fingers through his hair and he looks over at you, shifting.
“Hi,” he murmurs, dark circles under his eyes.
“Hi,” you rasp back, fingers still working through his hair.
“How do you feel?”
“Sore, tired,” you hesitate, “empty.”
“Yeah,” Andrei’s reply is barely an exhale. “Doctor said we can go, once they give you the all-clear.”
You nod, chewing at your lower lip. “Andrei,” you choke his name, the words coming out like broken glass, “we don’t have a baby anymore.”
“I know,” Andrei replies simply, sitting up all the way and leaning forward to gather you into his arms. You go to him easily, moving carefully and ignoring the pull of your protesting muscles, and bury your face against his chest. He’s in the same black t-shirt and he smells stale now, like he needs a shower desperately, but under that he just smells like Andrei, like home, and you cry into his chest, the fabric growing wet under your face. He just holds you, his arms a strong cage around your back, his hands running up and down your back. Everything in your body hurts, but nothing more than your heart.
Throughout the next few hours, when you’re given a clean bill of health, instructions to take it easy and abstain from sex or using a tampon for three weeks, and discharged, Andrei is a rock. He’s right at your side, helping you get dressed in the soft joggers you were using as pajama pants and an oversized hoodie. He laces up your sneakers for you and carries all the bags out to the waiting Uber. You were discharged in time to make the team flight home, but after hearing Andrei on the phone before the doctor came in for your exam, you kind of suspect that he may have pressed Rod to change the travel plans. You can’t even start to think about what he’s done for you, exhaustion seeping to your bones.
No one says anything to you when Andrei ushers you onto the plane, but Neci gives you a small smile and squeezes your hand when you walk past him. You return the smile, feeling awful that Nykki has to fly home on her own. She’s been texting, checking in on you, and you haven’t answered yet, too distracted to deal with even holding your phone. Andrei bundles you into a seat near the back of the plane and wraps his jacket around you.
“Thanks,” you say quietly, resting your head against his shoulder.
“Anything for you, solnyshka,” he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Try and sleep, long flight. I have the pain pills, if you need, okay?”
You nod against his shoulder and wrap his jacket tighter around your body, tucking your hands up into the sleeves. Andrei rests his palm on your knee and before the plane even takes off, you’re asleep.
It’s a long flight back to Raleigh and you don’t sleep the entire way, but after a solid three hour nap, you wake up feeling better. Andrei’s asleep when you wake up, his head dropped back against the headrest, his mouth open slightly. He finally looks relaxed and peaceful and you’re grateful, so grateful, for him.
Your whole body still hurts, but your legs are starting the cramp up, so you carefully shimmy out of your seat to stretch in the aisle. Brady and Jarvy wave at you from a few rows up and you wave back, wondering what they know, if they know anything. No one really tries to talk to you, so you assume Andrei told them that you had some kind of medical emergency. Legs feeling better, you settle back into your seat, finally pulling out your phone and connecting to the in-flight wifi so you can text Nykki.
She reassures you that none of the other guys know what happened and that if you need anything when you’re back in Raleigh to let her know. You’re blessed to have such a good friend in her and you thank her, thinking that maybe in a few days you’ll see if she’ll bring Gigi over for some puppy cuddles.
Andrei wakes up about and hour before you land and he gulps back half of a water bottle before he even says anything. Then he tips his head close to yours and whispers, “how are you feeling? Any pain?”
“No,” you whisper back, “I’m okay. Just sore. It’s like being drained after a really bad period. I feel better after my nap.”
“Good,” he pushes the half-empty water bottle into your hands. “Drink.”
“Yes, sir,” you tease, the moment of lightness making you feel a little better. You sip at it slowly, starting to get a little nauseous. Andrei wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him, drawing comfort from his solid warmth.
When you land, Andrei guides you off the plane, his palm reassuring against your lower back. It’s easy to let him take the lead and to not think about anything. He’s got both of your bags and you don’t even put up a fuss when he refuses to let you carry even your purse. You’re just too tired.
Andrei’s car is parked fairly close and you don’t have to walk very far. You lower yourself into the front seat of the Lamborghini, muttering, “I hate this car.” Your stomach gives a protest of pain from having to climb into the car.
“I know,” Andrei laughs a little, loosening up. His string of ugly sports cars is a long running topic of conversation. The last one was orange, the one before that a strange green. This one is electric purple and it’s hideous. His terrible taste in car colors is his only red flag. “Next one will be red.”
“Why couldn’t this one have been red?” You ask, breathing deeply to stave off the nausea. You sink back against the seat and Andrei pulls out of the parking spot. He’s driving must slower than usual and is taking extreme care with navigating the roads.
“This one was only 75 made,” he explains again. “It’s a collectors item.”
“It’s still ugly,” you tease, a smile playing at your lips.
He reaches over and takes your hand, bringing it up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I love you so much, moya solnyshka, and I’m so…proud of your strength.”
Andrei doesn’t look at you when he says it, but his voice gets thick and he swallows roughly. He continues, “it hurts to know there would’ve been a baby in the summer.” So he did the math, you think. “But, this is maybe the wrong thing to say, but I’m glad I didn’t know before.”
It’s not really the right thing to say to you in the moment, but you can’t blame him. You sniff and nod. “I know. I almost wish I hadn’t known either. It was only a week, but I was so attached to…to the idea of our baby.”
“When you’re ready,” Andrei says slowly, turning to look at you while you’re stopped at a red light, “you tell me and I’ll give you a baby. When you’re ready.”
You nod, unable to even think about trying for a baby right now, but Andrei’s words and his earnest expression make your heart melt. You love him so, so much. “When I’m ready,” you repeat, squeezing his fingers.
When you get home, Andrei runs you a shower and joins you after a minute, soaping up your hair and scrubbing down your body gently. You don’t speak while he works and his touch is nothing but chaste. He’s careful around your stomach and between your legs, impossibly gentle with those huge hands of his. You stand under the spray while he gives his own body and hair a quick wash, the heat of the shower starting to make you a little lightheaded. Right before it gets to the point where you think you’re going to have to say something, Andrei flips the water off and reaches out of the stall for a huge, fluffy towel, wrapping you up in it and rubbing his hands up and down your arms to keep you warm. He grabs another towel and wraps it around his waist, gripping your elbow and guiding you back to the bedroom.
You rummage in his drawers for oversized clothes, not wanting anything constrictive on your body. Once you’re comfortable in an old pair of Andrei’s grey sweats and a threadbare Duke t-shirt, you crawl under the covers and curl up on your side. “Join me?” You ask, looking up at Andrei. He nods, silently climbing into bed behind you and gently scooting you closer to him. The warmth of his body is comforting against your back and he wraps his arms loosely under your breasts, avoiding your stomach. Andrei buried his face in your hair and you let a few silent tears leak out of your eyes.
What did you do to deserve this wonderful man?
With Andrei’s arms around you and your heart heavy in your chest, you fall asleep again, but it’s unsatisfying. After a few hours, you need food even though you’re still nauseous. Andrei makes himself a sandwich and warms up a can of chicken soup for you and you eat in bed, a rerun of The Nanny on TV. Andrei doesn’t really get the show - the humor is too specific - but he does like to point out all the outfits that Fran wear and he thinks you can pull off. It’s a nice distraction.
You take the next few days off of work, just to recover, but Andrei isn’t as lucky. You’re mostly fine physically except some lingering soreness, most of your problems are mental. After talking about it on the way home, neither you not Andrei has really brought up the miscarriage.
Two days after the miscarriage, the team is playing at home and Andrei’s right there in the middle of it all. You don’t watch the game, still too raw to watch hockey after what happened in Vancouver, so it’s a little shocking when he comes home with a blackened right eye and a cut across his nose and part of his cheek. “What happened?” You yelp upon seeing him, getting carefully to your feet and reaching up to lightly touch the side of his face.
Andrei grunts. “Distracted, got hit,” he winces when he moves his face.
You feel awful, knowing he was distracted because he was worrying about you. “Luckily it didn’t need stitches,” you say softly. “Can’t have anything ruining that pretty face,” you tease him lightly.
He gives you a tight smile and his gaze flickers down to your stomach, covered in an oversized sweatshirt. You catch his look and brush your thumb over the edge of his jaw. “I’m okay. You don’t have to worry about me so much,” you say. “I’m tough. I’m strong.”
“I know,” Andrei sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead. He hesitates, wanting to say more, and you wait. “At the game,” he says slowly, “Burnsie, Staalsy, they had their kids there. I couldn’t help…I was picturing…”
Oh.
Your heart cracks right over the scabs that had been forming the past two days and fresh pain floods your veins. “Drei…” you’re not even sure what to say to him. You knew he was sad, but you hadn’t really thought about how deep his feelings went.
He smiles sadly at you. “Today, it hit me,” he says, twisting his lips. “We lost a baby.”
“Yeah,” you reply, throat tight. “We did.”
Andrei pulls you close, twisting his hand in the end of your ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting it to hurt like this, when I didn’t even know for very long,” he murmurs and you can feel a few tears drip onto the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist tighter.
“I don’t think that matters,” you mumble. “It hurts no matter how long you knew about it.”
You can feel Andrei’s head turn, his cheek pressing against the top of your head. You just stand there in his arms, holding tightly to the only other person that’s feeling the same pain as you. The longer Andrei holds you, the more you feel your fragile heart mending itself, the steady beat of his heart a constant under your cheek.
After that, things slowly start getting back to normal. You’re physically healed and cleared to resume normal activities. Andrei’s not so distracted during games. You can go hours, days without thinking about the baby that’s gone.
Andrei mentions it, off-hand, about a month after you get home from Vancouver, after he’s back from another quick road trip. “We could’ve been telling our families about the baby at Christmas,” he’s clearly been thinking about it.
You nod, a little startled by his comment. “Probably, yeah. Or we would’ve told them already, too excited to keep a secret,” you smile a little to yourself, thinking about how Andrei almost spoiled his proposal twice before he actually popped the question because he was so excited.
He grins at you, dimple popping, and pushes a slim box across the table at you. “Early Christmas present,” he says, answering your unasked question.
Looking at him suspiciously, you pop the lid on the jewelry box, finding a thin gold chain bracelet with two delicate charms on it - the common blue and white Greek mati to ward off the evil eye and a little horizontal cross attached at each end to the chain. You trace your fingers over the chain and look up at Andrei.
“A little luck?” He says, lifting one shoulder. “I saw it in a store window, in Long Island, before we played. Made me think of you.”
“Thank you,” you murmur, getting out of your seat to kiss him softly. You trace your tongue over his lower lip and desire stirs in your stomach, something foreign after the last few weeks, but oh so familiar. You’re not quite ready to have sex yet, but it’s a good reminder that you will one day soon. “It’s perfect.” You hold out your wrist and Andrei clasps the bracelet on.
“Whenever you’re ready,” he says, reminding you of the promise he made in the car.
“Whenever I’m ready,” you repeat, crawling onto his lap and letting him hold you. The thought of getting pregnant again doesn’t make your chest feel quite as tight anymore, doesn’t get the panic alarms ringing in your head. Andrei’s been so patient and gentle, making everything just a little bit easier to bear.
Every day just reminds you that as long as Andrei’s by your side, you can handle anything life throws at you.
He kisses the side of your head and holds you close, chasing the shadows of grief away.
#andrei svechnikov imagine#andrei svechnikov#andrei svechnikov fic#andrei svechnikov x reader#andrei svechnikov x you
489 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi again, sorry i mess it i hope it is right now ^^, a request for song fics could you with tfp optimus prime with the song Shawn Mendes, Camila Cabello - Señorita with a fem!human!reader, genre to Romance?
Senorita - TFP!Optimus Prime/Fem!Human!Reader
Word count: 1,672
Your first meeting had actually been entirely an accident. Optimus knew some humans had an affinity for vehicles, and you were one of them. Even a Prime can only take so much fawning over his grill, rims, or decals before he gets flustered and ends up blowing his cover.
That set the tone pretty well for how your entire relationship with Optimus was going to go. The other Autobots treated their leader with all the grace and dignity deserved of a Prime, but you never let the great title dictate how you treated Optimus. You weren’t ever afraid to speak your mind or ask questions. You questioned his commands, not to undermine him but to genuinely understand and clarify.
You seemed to find everything Optimus said fascinating, and when he’d watch you he could see the inner gears of your mind chugging along. Picking apart his words and always seeming to know exactly what was on his mind, even when he himself wasn’t entirely sure. You were the probing sort, someone Ratchet often found meddlesome and too-like Miko, but there was a grace to your inquiries.
Optimus was, perhaps, somewhat shy to admit that he liked it when you asked about his past. Especially when you would ask about the moments that weren’t so great or grave, like his walk home in the evenings from the Hall of Records or his favorite small pleasures. There was something warm, familiar, even humbling to the idea that your two lives weren’t too different.
You used to work at a bookstore and did its inventory, spending hours organizing piles upon piles of books. He would spend cycles listening and sorting through videos and audio files to archive them in their appropriate places. You’d stop on your way home and get a donut and coffee. He’d occasionally indulge and get himself a slice of chrome-alloy cake.
Optimus did not consider himself a poet, nor any other kind of lyrical savant, but he would describe the closeness he felt to you as… magnetic. He found his gaze drawn to you in the room, your laugh made his spark skip in his chassis, and even the persistent hum of the matrix seemed more at ease around you.
He wondered if, maybe, you knew what you did to him. It certainly seemed like you knew when you’d come close to him and lay on the lower portion of his chassis, just beneath his windshield. It seemed like you knee when you’d find a quiet moment to rest with him in his seldom-used quarters, your whole tiny body level with his face. For someone who could fit in the palm of his servo, you liked to make your physical presence known and tangible.
He couldn’t say he minded. In fact, that was a thing that brought quite a bit of distress to the poor Prime’s mind in the moments that should be peaceful. The longer he knew you, the more enthralling the pull became. He found himself wondering if you’d hate it if he curled his servo around you, cupping you between his digits like a treasure. He thinks about the scent of your skin and the warmth of your body, should you finally close the distance between them.
You were human. You were fragile. Leaders weren’t built to have fragile things, but protect them regardless.
But he still wanted you. Enough to forgo the logical sense he had to distance himself and instead, let you keep invading his space and his mind. He couldn’t bring himself to stop this.
Not when you invited yourself into his quarters, shimmied your way up to the space on his berth right beside his neck cables and jaw, and built your own little nest of blankets and pillows there. Not when you had so much faith in him, and talked to him about all of the soft things he thought they’d killed in this war.
“That’s Neocybex, right?” You ask, snuggled up beside his audial as he laid on his back, both of you looking on up at the data pad he had in his servos. He pauses in his scrolling through, balancing the stylus in his grip as he tilts the data pad further for you to read.
“Some of it is. Other parts, like here,” He scrolls down, “Are Primal Vernacular.”
“A different dialect or a different language wholly?”
“Neither. Primal Vernacular was the predecessor of the Neocybex all Cybertronians came to speak in modern times. When I was given the Matrix of Leadership and all of its knowledge, I was also gifted the ability to speak and read this ancient Cybertronian language. I find it easier, sometimes, to take notes in.”
You sit up a little, bracing yourself with a hand on his cheek vent. “So you’re the only one that knows how to speak it?”
“Most likely.” Optimus admits, somewhat sullen, “Even before the war, it was considered a dead language on Cybertron. Transcriptions existed of people speaking the language but as Neocybex became more common, it simply was lost to time.”
You hum, and leaning this close to them, he can feel the way the small sound rumbles up through your chest.
“Teach me. At least a word or two. Something I can remember.”
“You wish to learn Neocybex? I do not know if your organic vocalizer can reproduce the sound.”
“No, no! Primal Vernacular! The letters almost remind me of… Arabic. That’s a human language so, surely I can wrap my head around some of that.”
His spark warms at that, your enthusiasm contagious. It couldn’t hurt to attempt it, it would be a good excuse to brush up on his own pronunciation.
“Ṣdyq,” He begins. “It means ‘friend.’ And if you begin it with Rjl, it becomes ‘brother.’”
“Oh so it has different rules than Earth’s version of Arabic.”
“Yes. It is fascinating, is it not? That humans have taken such an old language and made it their own?”
“Yeah, it’s kind of nice in a way. Makes things feel less…” You fish around in your thoughts for the proper word, then hum. “Lonely. Yeah. So… Rjl… Ṣdyq… means ‘brother.’ How do you say ‘sister,’ then?”
Optimus’ lip plates quirk into the shallow shape of a smile, spark warmed by your botched attempt to match his pronunciation.
“The translations of the words are different based on their cultural meanings. Cybertronians are very rarely forged with siblings, so ‘brother’ means something closer to ‘ally.’ A feminine version of the word didn’t appear until very late, when femmes started to become more prominent. It was very rarely used though, mostly due to the… intimate implications of the word. I once listened to an interview with a linguist on the matter and he theorized that it was coined initially by Megatronus Prime of the Thirteen, as a term of endearment Solus Prime. It’s ‘Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq.’”
Now that has you fascinated. Optimus often chose his words carefully, using them as a tool for peace and command just as often as he used his own two servos. With you, conversation came easier. Optimus only had a select few people whom he knew and trusted to allow him to talk so easily.
You stood up, keeping one hand against his jaw as you walked around him. He could feel you use him to steady your steps as you hoisted yourself up onto his neck cables. You were so light he hardly felt the pressure at all. Instinctively his servo came down to gently cup behind your back, fearing you might fall off.
“What are you doing?” He asks, but he doesn’t sound irritated. Worried maybe, curious mostly.
“I want to see the way your mouth moves when you say those words.”
It’s an innocent goal, he insists it is. A request to turn on his first level of cooling fans pops up on his HUD view. He almost denies it, then worries that he might grow too warm for you to touch. In the end he does allow them to kick on and wholly misses the way it makes you smirk.
“Come on, boss. Say ‘em.” You coax, resting your folded arms against his chin, “Please?”
Optimus looks down past his nose, examining your face as his fans cycle a little faster. Right, it would be rude to refuse you whatever small teaching aid he could offer. Even if it was unorthodox.
“Ṣdyq.” He says. You lean forward a bit, watching the way his lips move with every sound. “‘Friend.’”
“Uh-huh.”
“Rjl Ṣdyq.” You reach out and trail your tiny fingers across his bottom lip. Optimus loses his train of thought.
“Which means?” You prompt him, feigning forgetfulness.
“Ah, ‘ally.’” He can see the way you bounce a little when he swallows the thick lump forming in the back of his intake.
“Cool, cool.” When had you gotten so close to him? And it didn’t seem like you minded at all as you even used his servo balancing you from behind to boost yourself up and lay across the flat plane of his chin.
He says your name softly. His data pad is forgotten in favor of clutching onto the tarp and padding on the berth beneath him.
“And what’s the last one?”
“Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq,” When had he started to feel so breathless? Like his fans weren’t cycling enough air.
“Mmmhm… I like that one. There’s something about the way you say it. Say it again, please?”
“Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq,” He says again, just so he can hear the joy on your voice when you giggle, “Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq. And it means– mhm?”
Before he can even finish his statement, your small, warm lips press to his bottom lip, silencing him quicker and easier than even the sound of blaster fire. His servo cups closer behind you and he knows he should stop this, he knows he doesn’t deserve this, but you make it so, so clear you want to give it to him.
And in the end… who was he to deny his Ạmrạ̉ẗ Ṣdyq?
#transformers#request fill#transformers prime#tfp optimus prime#tfp optimus x reader#thank you for requesting!!#song fic#tfp x reader#reader insert#yes the words are arabic i dont speak it but its an alien dialect in this case so plz believe me i mean no offense#WOO actually wrote a kiss this time#optimus prime#optimus prime x reader
157 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi there! I've had this idea stuck in my head for a while and I'd rather read it than write it lol -though I might write something myself eventually-
Reader strongly disliking physical touch from everyone but Steve, and him being completely oblivious to it. The rest of the friend group pointing it out and him refusing to believe them, so the whole lot decide to prove him wrong with some sort of masterplan. (Idiots in love am I right)
What do you think? Hope you have a great day xxx
The Only Exception || Steve Harrington x female!reader
Summary: Physical touch was something you despised, but as always, Steve’s touch was the only exception. When he refuses to believe that you actually hate the whole concept of it, the kids come up with a plan to prove him wrong.
Word Count: 2.3k
Warnings: fluff, a tiny bit of angst, reader dislikes physical touch
A/N: I’m sorry it took so long for me to write it. It was difficult because I’m the complete opposite (big fan of physical touch), but I tried my best to implement it in the story. I hope you like it! Also, this is not based on the Paramore song “The Only Exception”, I just thought that the title would fit this story lmao
The warm and bright rays of sunshine slip through the curtains, shining directly on your face and awakening you from your unconscious state. You squeeze your eyes shut and turn to face the other side. A hand comes up to your face, its thumb caressing your cheek slowly. You open your eyes and are met with Steve’s sleepy gaze.
“Hey,” he whispers as he gives you a small smile.
“G’morning,” you murmur as you put your arms around his waist and hug him close. “How long have you been up for?”
“Not long, I was just waiting for you to wake up,” he says nuzzling against your neck. He leaves a trail of soft kisses all the way from your jaw to your collarbone.
“I missed you last night,” he continues.
“I’m sorry, I had to stay later than planned because this customer would just not shut up,” you groan as you remember the encounter. He pulls back to meet his gaze with yours.
“I mean, he just kept going on and on about how his son was going off the rails with this so-called ‘satanic’ D&D game, saying that he was worried he would turn out to be a cult member,” rubbing the sleep from your eyes and then raising your arms above your head to stretch.
“All I did was ask how he was doing, which is obviously a question that is asked clearly out of courtesy. I’m just a retail worker working minimum wage, not a therapist,” you scoff and roll your eyes in frustration.
He looks at you with an amused expression. He loved that you felt comfortable enough to rant about your feelings, knowing full well that you had trouble doing so with most people. But he also found it entertaining because of the way you told your stories.
“Don’t worry about it, dove. I’m just glad to wake up next to you,” he says, voice still raspy from sleep. He pulls you back into a hug and you close your eyes, letting the warmth from his touch embrace you like the world’s most comfortable blanket.
In the two months you and Steve had been dating, neither of you had discussed your love languages. He assumed yours was physical touch since you always welcomed his touch eagerly. Because of this, he never had a reason to think otherwise. But in reality, you were never one to favor physical closeness. Your childhood lacked the expression of love through touch because your parents were never affectionate with you, or with each other for that matter.
Before Steve, any kind of physical closeness would make you uncomfortable. However, having him that close would not only make you happy but calm. His hugs and kisses were like a breath of fresh air. It was something new and exciting, yet calming when you were stressed or low-spirited. Despite loving having him that close, his touch was the only one you tolerated. You, of course, were certain that his love language was physical touch; it was as clear as day and everyone knew it.
“Come on, let’s go get some breakfast so we can help set up for Dustin’s birthday party,” you say as you let go of Steve and sit up into a cross-legged position. He throws his arm over his face and sighs.
“Alright, just give me five more minutes of sleep and then I’ll get up to shower,” he mumbles into his arm.
“Five minutes will turn into ten, ten will turn into twenty, and next thing you know we’ll be an hour late, Steve”
“Fine,” he groans, “I’m getting up now.”
Your mouth quirks up at the corners with contentment. You love living with Steve. Moments of simple domestic bliss are your favorite, especially ones like these. Mornings with him are so soft. It is when you would let your guard down, allowing yourself to be who you really are, and it’s the same way for him. Uncrossing your legs, you give him a kiss on the forehead and get up from the bed. The two of you need to be at the Wheeler’s place soon to set up for the party, and if there’s one thing you dislike more than anything is being late.
“Stevie, you better be in the shower by the time I come back!” you shout as you head to the kitchen to make breakfast for the two of you. As much as you love Steve, mornings, when you had somewhere else to be, were not easy.
—
“Happy birthday, Henderson,” Steve smiles as he embraces Dustin in a tight hug. The setup for the party had been pretty easy. All of the kids had offered to help make their friend’s birthday a special one, especially after everything that happened with the Upside Down.
“Thanks, man,” Dustin responds.
“You know, it would’ve been a hell of a lot easier if you had told us what you wanted as a present instead of having us guess,” Steve says while rolling his eyes.
Although he loved the kid, he hated trying to find a present that would be perfect to Dustin’s liking. It was incredibly stressful to him because he wanted it to be perfect. He wanted him to have a present that he would actually enjoy, something that Steve hadn’t experienced in his childhood as a result of his parent’s emotional negligence. Sure, they always provided him with anything he needed, but they never bothered to give him the attention and affection all childrens need. Every year, his parents would always give him money to buy whatever he wanted, even as a child. The thought that goes into buying a loved one something they want is much better than an envelope with a hundred bucks and a half-hearted congratulations.
“I’m sure I’ll love whatever you got me. Plus, where’s the fun in just telling you?”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, dude. It better be something you like, otherwise I’m making you bike to return it for something you actually like. I’m not wasting gas on that,” he grumbles. You give him a knowing smile, after all, you know him well enough to know that he was all bark and no bite. At least not when it came to the people he loved. It seemed like Dustin knew it too because he just chuckles at his remark.
“Happy birthday, Dustin,” you smile as you hand the young teen a blue envelope that contains a birthday card.
“Thanks, y/n!” he says much more enthusiastically. Suddenly, he wraps his arms around you, with your own pinned against your side. You become still as a statue, not knowing how to respond to his touch. Not wanting to hurt his feelings, you bring your right hand up to his back and give him a quick pat. He seems to get the hint because he drops his arms and gives you a slight smile.
“Steve, could you help me carry one of my new inventions? It’s in the garage and it’s just too heavy for me to carry it,” Dustin says.
“Sure, sure,” Steve responds. “Are you sure you’ll be okay on your own?” he says as he turns to you.
“I’m sure. I’ll go ask Mrs. Henderson if she needs help with anything,” you smile reassuringly.
“Alright,” he says, giving you a small peck on the cheek before turning on his heel to follow Dustin.
Dustin opens the door to the garage, finding the rest of his friends sitting on the floor playing a boardgame.
“What are you guys doing here?” Steve questions.
“Dustin’s mom got mad at us for yelling while playing the game. She told us to either tone it down or come to the garage. So, we decided to come here instead,” Lucas shrugs. “What are you doing here? I thought you would be hanging out with the others,” he adds. Steve assumes that by the others he means Robin, Jonathan, Nancy, and you.
“I was, but Henderson over here wanted me to help him carry something that was apparently too heavy for him. Which is bullshit because I know for a fact he would rather struggle to carry something than ask for my help.”
With that, he turns to look at Dustin. “So what’s going on, dude?” he questions, brow arched in suspicion.
“When were you going to tell me that y/n hates hugs?” Dustin asks.
“What are you talking about? She loves hugs,” he says, surprise crossing his face.
“You know damn well what I’m talking about. It sure would’ve been better if you had told me before I hugged her today.”
Steve shoots him a quizzical look and asks, “I seriously have no clue what you’re talking about.”
“Everytime we hug her she either awkwardly stands very still with her arms pinned to her sides or just dodges the gesture altogether,” Max joins in, “I thought you knew that already.”
“You guys have no idea what you’re talking about,” Steve says.
“It’s true, last week when she helped me with my History homework, I tried to give her a hug but she just stook out her hand for a handshake instead,” Will reveals.
“And a few minutes ago she just stood very still and gave me a pat on the back while I gave her a hug,” Dustin adds.
“I think I would know if my girlfriend disliked physical touch,” Steve insists.
“You think we’re making it up? Fine, we’ll prove you wrong, Dingus,” Dustin fires back. He goes up to Mike and whispers something in his ear. Mike nods and turns to whisper the same thing in El’s ear.
“Let’s go,” Dustin says. The rest of the kids follow him, Steve trailing right behind them. They head to the living room, where you’re sitting on the couch reading your book.
“Hey, y/n,” Dustin greets you. You look from your novel, and smile at the kids.
“Hey,” you answer back.
“We just wanted to thank you for everything you have done for us. I mean, from helping us out with our English and History homework, to giving us rides to the arcade and helping decorate for my birthday party,” he continues.
“Yeah, and thanks for the relationship advice you gave us earlier this week,” Mike comments as he glances at El.
“There’s no need to thank me, I’m happy to help out however I can,” giving them a gentle smile.
“Can I give you a hug?” El asks shyly.
“Oh, uh, sure,” you mutter. You step forward in her direction and wrap your left arm around her shoulders for a brief second. When you step back, you give her a tight smile and put your hands in the pockets of your jacket.
“Are you okay, y/n?” Lucas asks.
“Of course,” you reply.
“Did I do something wrong? Was my hug that bad?” El asks you, a frown forming on her face.
“What? No, not at all. You’re a great hugger El” you quickly say.
“Or do you just don’t like us? Is that why you hate our hugs?” Dustin inquires, brows furrowed in worry.
“It’s not you guys, I promise. I’m just not that fond of physical touch,” you admit, an apologetic look on your face.
“What? All this time you’ve hated it and you couldn’t even tell me?” Steve asks, a hurtful look crossing his face.
“We’ll leave you two to talk,” Dustin says quietly. They all glance at each other in confusion, but Dustin nods towards the hallway that leads back to the garage. They exit the room, leaving the two of you in awkward silence.
“Does that mean that you’ve hated all of the kisses and hugs I’ve been giving you this entire time?” Steve asks, eyebrows lowered and pulled together.
You close the space that separates the two of you and bring your hands up to his face to softly cup his cheek.
“Baby, I’ve loved every single kiss and hug you have given me so far. Look, I know we’ve never discussed this, but physical touch doesn’t come easy to me. I mean, the kids just proved it,” you laugh humorlessly.
“My parents were never affectionate with me, so anything that involves touching other people makes me uncomfortable. I never thought that it would change, but then you came along and became my only exception,” you continue, “Trust me when I say that nothing makes me happier than feeling you close to me.”
“But why didn’t you say anything, dove?” he asks softly, tilting up your chin and cupping both of your cheeks. You take your hands off his face and hold his wrists instead, as if to keep his hands in place.
“It never came up. Plus, I didn’t want you to think that I hated your touch,” you answer in the same tone.
“I’m sorry for not saying anything,” you add.
“And I’m sorry for not noticing it sooner,” he responds.
“I guess we’re just two idiots in love, huh? Too blinded to see the obvious,” he chuckles.
“I guess we are,” you chuckle as well, standing on your toes to meet your lips with his.
—
Taglist: @shyawayfromme @untitledarea
For some reason I couldn’t tag most of the people that answered my google form taglist, just these two. Not sure why it’s happening but sorry!
#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington fluff#stranger things fanfiction#fanfic#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington angst#steve harrington x female reader#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington x reader fluff#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington one shot#steve harrington x reader fanfic#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fanfic
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
curiosity is a wonderful thing - chapter 1
wc: 2k
genre: slice of life, slow burn, best friends to lovers
pairing: slowburn best friend ben! x fem daughter of alice!reader, current audrey x ben
warnings: audrey being a bitch, unnecessary amounts of tea, ben being ben, mildly implied nd reader
summary: after a junior royal council meeting, you hype up your best friend Ben to tell his parents about his plans for his first proclaimation as king.
song recs: main titles 1 2 & 3 - descendants score/david lawrence, cheshire kitten (we're all mad here) - sj tucker
a/n: THE NEW SERIES IS HERE!!!! I am so excited for this, it's been one of my comfort indulgence daydreams for the longest time so I'm really elated to share it with y'all. BIG FAT FANGZ TO CICI FOR BETA READING!!!!!! and fangz to you guys for reading!!!!! I hope you enjoy lol <333 have an optional outfit. as a treat.
tags @dustyinkpages @demirunner @strawberry-cake1 @kiara7777 @yesv01 @magcon7280
Audrey was shocked when Ben had first told her that you and he weren't dating. She knew that you were friends, best friends at that. Everyone in Auradon did. Everyone also knew that what you had between you couldn't possibly be just platonic, not with the way you look at each other, how much time you spend together, or how intimately you speak to each other. It’s like you have your own language.
Everyone in Auradon knows this, with the exception of you and Ben, apparently. Even now, in the middle of a junior royal council meeting, Aziz shares a pitying look with Herkie at the way Audrey holds onto Ben’s arm while he goes over the agenda. Neither of them miss the way her gaze flicks between you two, trying to see if you’re stealing glances. You’re seated at his right hand side, like you usually are, as he goes over the last few items on the agenda for the meeting today and try to pay as much attention as you can. You scribble in your notebook as he does, nibbling at a tea biscuit and trying not to miss any of the important bits.
“...Facing a longstanding struggle to keep up with the increased demand of the textile industry,” Ben says, skimming through his papers. He glances up, and he knows no one is really paying attention except for you. “Looking to open up a- a more collaborative process of dialog with key workers in the textile industry, and unified front between all the major groups who paved the way to textiles as we know them today, while also compensating for the rise in automation.”
Across the table, Chad yawns. Lonnie and Melody pass notes between them, at least attempting to be subtle about it. You listen to Ben continue to update everyone on the ongoing current events in Auradon, and your pen drifts away from taking notes as you do, and begins to scribble little shapes in the margins of your well loved notebook. Your other hand moves down under the table, adjusting your pale blue skirt and tugging at the elastic of your black and white striped stockings. Ben’s gaze flicks over to you as you adjust in your seat, tugging at the puffy sleeves of your white blouse a moment later. He can tell you’re starting to get fidgety, which means it’s about time to wrap all this up. Plus, he has a suit fitting in ten minutes that he can’t be late for, or else Lumier will probably char something by accident.
“Negotiations are still in progress, and of course, we’re looking for any way possible to avoid an embargo. I think that’s the last thing anyone needs…” Ben trails off with a chuckle, only to be met with silence. He looks back at his paper, trying to find his place before the silence gets anymore awkward. Before he can, he hears you let out a puff of air in agreement.
“That’s quite an understatement.” You smile up at him, catching his eye before you each return to your respective papers. Your Wonderlandian accent is comforting, like a familiar friend in a tough crowd. People have described your accent many ways, most concluding it’s somewhere between british and transatlantic, but you don’t think you have much of an accent at all. Ben says you do, and you trust his judgment on the topic. Audrey maintains a tight smile on her face as Ben gently frees his arm from her to look through his papers in more detail. Once he’s sure he’s not missing anything, he goes through the usual motions of wrapping up a junior council meeting.
“All party planning committee members are welcome to hang back, the floor is yours,” He says to Audrey, gathering up all his papers with a smile. “Everyone else, thank you for your time as always, and have a good evening.”
Ben heads to the door as people start to funnel out and make conversation. Audrey waits as the other people on the party planning committee move up the table to sit closer to her, glancing at you as you put your notebook, pens, notes, and teacup back into that teapot shaped bag you always carry. It’s enchanted with Wonderland magic, and it makes her uneasy. She thinks you should just get a tote bag, or backpack, like a normal person.
“Bunny,” Ben calls from the doorway, getting your attention with the nickname he’s had for you for years. Her train of thought quickly turns away from bags as you look over, noticing it’s time to go and scurrying over to him. She watches you both talk quietly and head to wherever you’re going next, trying to ignore the quiet, burning jealousy seeping up into her. It’s nothing new, she reminds herself. She knew you two were best friends when she got together with her Bennyboo, so she knew what she was signing herself up for.
“Are we ready?” She asks curtly, turning towards Jane. She refuses to spend another second worrying about you, and instead, she channels all her energy into sifting through streamer sample colors. Whatever you two are doing can’t be as important as this. She’s sure whatever you’re discussing right now during Ben’s suit fitting is just meaningless small talk. Nothing of any importance.
“I… truly don’t think you could have picked a better, more impactful first proclamation, Ben.” You conclude with a sip of raspberry tea. A wave of relief washes through him as he pulls on the blue suit jacket for Lumier to tailor.
“You think so? Because, I-I’m only going to get to do this once, and-”
He’s cut off by you nodding solemnly.
“What better way to pave the way to the future than mending rifts of the past?” You ask rhetorically.
“Yes!” Ben exclaims, letting his hands fall to his sides with a smile, a gesture you mirror. “You get it…”
“Of course.” You smile at him, and it’s quiet for a moment as you take another sip of your tea. “You know your parents will…” You begin, but Ben is already nodding.
“Oh yeah.” He agrees. “I wrote down everything from the pros column, and ideas for everything in the cons.”
“Good,” you say, encouragingly.
“And I have a great mission statement.” He adds, and you can see him getting fired up. You know how much this means to him, how much of his heart he’s putting into helping as many people as possible and being a good king to everyone, even the citizens on the Isle. If you know Ben - and you’re sure you do by now - you know how he can start to overthink things right before a presentation, even an informal one. He’s as prepared as he’ll ever be, and you have his back. He knows this.
“Oh, I meant to ask,” you say breezily as Lumier enters, “how are things going with Audrey?”
You wiggle your eyebrows at him, sending him a comically scandalous look. He laughs as you wave hello to Lumier, and you think it’s the first time he’s relaxed in the last 30 hours or so. You flip through your journal, selecting a few pictures you took recently of flora in Wonderland, doodling their leaves and stalks on a mostly blank page. He laughs, hanging his head at the unexpected nature of the question, and Lumier pulls out a tape measure to begin the alterations of Ben’s suit.
“You’re really- we’re really going to go there?” He asks through a smile. You look up at him, nodding.
“Mhm.” You confirm. He can’t say no to you, he never can.
“Okay. Uh, yeah things are good. With me and Audrey.”
“Good,” you smile, looking up from your paper. He wonders what you’re working on, and always looks forward to seeing your little drawings. Even the ones you dislike, he finds beautiful. He tries to think of what else is going on with Audrey.
“We, uh… we have a date later this week.”
“Sleeve.” Lumier interjects, moving Ben’s arm.
“Oh, how fun!” You smile.
“Head.” Lumier turns Ben to look out the large windows. He thinks for another moment, struggling to find anything else Audrey related to talk about as you distract yourself with the expression of a pouting mushroom you’d gotten a good picture of last time you were in Wonderland. Before he can think of anything else his eyes land on the Isle. His mind wanders toward how forgotten everyone out there must feel. You look up at him, following his gaze.
“I know.” You say softly. You’ve discussed the Isle and its’ residents at great lengths, both finding a greater deal of compassion for them than most people seem to have.
“How is it possible that you’re going to be crowned king next month?” Comes King Adam’s booming voice as he and Belle enter from the patio doors.
“Hello, dear,” Belle smiles at you, resting a hand on your shoulder as they pass, approaching Ben, and you smile a greeting back up at her, and begin putting away your notebook. As close as you two are, you can’t expect anyone but the royal family to be in the room during discussions of Ben’s first proclamation. Both you and Ben knew this had to be a conversation between him and his parents, and as much as you both might like it to be, it’s not really something he can do with you by his side. You scurry past him, sending him an encouraging look.
“You’ll do great.” You say, your voice just low enough for him to hear it. You touch his arm encouragingly until Lumier shoos you away, not wanting anything to jeopardize the way he finally got Ben’s shoulder to lay on that side. Ben locks eyes with you as you leave. It’s only a moment, but those three words, that one little gesture from you have him more ready than ever. He prepares himself with a breath.
You’ll probably sneak off to Wonderland for a while, like you usually do with any pockets of spare time you find, so you’ll get to update him on the feud going on between the bluebirds and inchworms by the time he’s done. He takes comfort in that, knowing that even in the worst case scenario, even if everything goes horribly wrong, you’ll still have some fascinating Wonderland stories for him, just like you always do. He finds great comfort in the thought as his parents approach, and knows two things; it’s time for him to begin stepping up, and that you have his back all the way.
You close the heavy wooden door behind you, walking a few feet down the hall so you don’t accidentally eavesdrop. You sit down against the wall to wait for Ben, and your mind drifts to Wonderland, as it so often does. There’s a peace there, something you’ve never been able to find overland. It calls to you, like a sailor’s heart calls to the sea. You wonder if you have time for a quick trip, just a few minutes in paradise, but you know it’s never really just a few minutes. Time works differently in Wonderland than it does in overland, and it’s unpredictable. The last thing you want is not to be here when Ben is done talking to his parents.
“I’d better not…” you sigh. Being here for Ben is more important right now. He’s your best friend. So you settle into your little spot in the hallway, smoothing out your blue skirt around you. You reach into your teapot shaped bag, pulling out a small white porcelain teacup with little violets on it, and a matching saucer. You think for a moment about what kind of tea you want right now. Hibiscus, you decide, with a touch of honey. You tilt the spout of your bag, letting the perfectly brewed cup of tea fall from the spout. You take a sip, leafing through your homework to see what you can bore yourself with to pass the time. You don’t know how long Ben will be in there, and you don’t care too much. You’re sure he’ll do wonderfully, and that’s really all you care about right now.
#descendants#descendants fanfiction#descendants x reader#ben florian#ben florian x reader#ben florian fanfiction#daughter of alice!reader#it's gonna get so good#I love me a good canon compliant fic lmao#curiosity is a wonderful thing
230 notes
·
View notes
Text
Call him up. He comes to my bedroom. Ended up we'd fuck on the hotel floor.
Summary: you, Jay, fucking after an award show
Warnings: smut, fem!reader, MINORS DNI, Oral (recieving), some comfort from husband material Jay
A/N: ALRIGHT! First smut work! I definitely need to improve a lot but here you go my babygirls. Also first Jay drabble! YAY! im taking a break from my work and writing whenever I'm at work and just staring at fishies.
Song rec: A&W by Lana del Rey. Yes the title is a lyric from that song. My favourite lyric!
"You wanted to see me baby?" Jay Park. Can anyone in this world get more luckier that you to get Jay fucking Park.
Award shows were boring, but when you had Jay beside you, it made it worth it, for you to stare at that slightly open white shirt with that watch that you gifted him, wrapped around his pretty little wrist. Yet again, L/N Y/N had won another award for best producer of the year. Some more of these and your house will end up becoming a store for selling 'Best producer' awards. Jay's group Enhypen had won 'Best boy band of the year' award this time and you were so proud of him. If not for the slight hiccup.
Being a producer, your ears were probably the most sensitive shit on earth, which enabled you to hear far more further than most people can (I actually have this ability and it's really cool!). Which in turn allows you to eavesdrop easily. But sometimes the eavesdropping isn't always the most comforting thing on this world, and as you heard your fellow producers smoke in the bathroom stalls and say 'She just got that award because she's Jay's girlfriend.' and 'He's so delicious though. Why did he pick that ugly bitch of a whore?'. You weren't really the type of person to cry or feel insecure, I mean after all you were in the kpop industry. Someone was always prettier or more talented than you. But hey, you were raised by some pretty good people, who taught you not to let jealousy take over you. But sometimes even saints abandon their principles in time of desperation. And for you? Your co workers shit talking about you was the time of desperation. You knew being in a relationship in this industry and letting it be public was a risk. But for Jay? Oh honey you'd risk the entire universe to be with him.
"Honey what's wrong? Hey are you crying?" Jay had walked into your hotel room, after you sent a staff member to get him. The afterparty was in the same hotel and you knew Jay would be with the rest of the boys, enjoying, drinking and critiquing every person's outfit. But you just couldn't go and stand there and give fake smiles to your coworkers, and pretend that everything was okay. You needed your boyfriend right now. And Jay would do anything for you, even abandon a party to come up to your magnificent suite. "Baby what's wrong?" Jay sat down on the bed next to you and cupped your cheeks. "You weren't at the party. I brought some food for you." Hearing that only made you sob harder onto your custom made red Prada dress, a gift from the worried man sitting in front of you, wondering silently what he could do to make you feel better as he stroked your hair and put your head against his chest.
"Shh baby shh. What happened?" "I- I heard them s-saying- Jay they think I- don't have- Jay." You sniffled in Jay's chest as he quickly understood what had happened. He had seen your coworkers giggling and approaching him again and again at the party and connecting the dots, it made perfect sense. Tracing the jewels on your dress with one hand and slightly taking off his tie with his other, Jay moved you to the pillow slowly, whilst admiring your figure in that dress. He hadn't had much of a chance to talk to you or see you up close since both of you were seated at different places, far from each other, neither did he have the chance to see you before the show, so when his eyes fell upon the tightly fit fabric on your hips, oh god his entire world came crashing down.
"Jay wha- what are you doi-" "Baby where do you keep the condoms?" You shuddered back as Jay slowly cane above you. "I- I'm on the pill." Jay slowly unzipped your dress, sneaking his hand behind you as you moved your hand to his collar. "Good" he growled against your ear. "You'll see what you're capable of tonight."
"Jay~" you whine as he grinds against your figure, the fabric of your dress slowly getting destroyed and ripped off of your body. You were quick to unbutton his white silk shirt, your gift, and unbutton his pants, throwing away the belt onto the bedside table. Jay moaned lowly as he inhaled the scent of your jasmine perfume, his favourite one. "Shit baby were you always this wet for him?" He teased you as you could do nothing but only whine in response. "Jay ah fuck!" He had slipped his fingers into your cunt, rings still on. The metal of the rings rubbed your pussy so hard, pleasure seeping in and out of you. "Is this ok baby? Or does my love need my cock inside?" "Jay ngh ahh fuck!" He slips himself in at an absolutely brutal pace, that your brain goes dumb and your pussy goes wild. This was heaven like you've never seen it. Jay was angry, so angry, and as his hands felt all of your naked skin, and all of your sadness turning into pure pleasure, satisfaction filled him to the brim. "No Jay don't pull out please." You whine to Jay as he slowly goes back. "Patience baby. Patience. I'll make you feel even better yeah? Give me my belt would you?" You were quick to reach out to the bedside table, where the brown leather belt lay, waiting for its turn. Jay slowly got your hands up and tied them to the bedframe with the belt tightly, as all you were capable of doing was whine and moan for him. "Jay please" He chuckled slowly at your desperate words and made his way down to your ripped pink panties. Pressing light kisses to your pussy, Jay took in your ever sweet whimpers and as his tongue darted out ever so often to flick you cute little clit, it drove you crazy, as you begged and begged for his cock again and again. "Aww does my Y/N want her daddy's dick inside of her now?" You whimpered again as he came up to you, face right above yours, hot breath, tinted with the smell of alcohol hitting your face. "Yes d-daddy please I need it please." You whispered to him. "Anything for my princess." He kissed you with his tongue moving around in your mouth, hands touching your clit, making you moan out his name, in the dirtiest way possible.
"Ah deeper Jay go deeper please." "You like that baby? Want me to cum inside of you hm?" The belt tied around your hands was untied now, as you moved your hands to Jay's pretty neck and thrust him into you. Jay sucked on your nipple softly, love and roses filling the huge room. The bed was definitely strong, because at the rate both of you were thrusting into each other, it should have broke. But then again, the hotel you were in wasn't called the best in the country for no reason.
"Wanna get in the shower baby?" Jay finally pulled out and flopped next to you on the bed, both of your hair and makeup, a mess. "Sure baby. Round two there?" You asked him, massaging your legs. Jay, to your dissatisfaction, shook his head. "No baby. Lets get washed up. We got an event tomorrow don't we? Don't want you limping at the event do we?" You pouted slightly as you remembered the Prada event you had tomorrow and as an ambassador, you had to deliver a speech. Yep another round of sex with Jay right now and tomorrow, nothing would be on your brain other than getting your pussy filled with his cum again. "Alright oh great Park Joengsoeng. I got your lavender shampoo. Wanna use that?" You said while getting up from the bed, completely naked. "Of course baby." Jay replied.
Winning an award tonight was good but getting your actual award with Jay was even better, you thought, as you entered the hot shower, Jay caressing your hips and kissing your neck. Yep you can't wait to get married to this man.
#park jay#jay#enhypen jay#enha jay#enhypen park jay#enhypen park jongseong#park jongseong#jay smut#enha smut#First smut work#jay drabble#jay smut drabble#park jay drabble#Enhypen drabble#bye bye now
227 notes
·
View notes
Text
GONE | E.M.
word count: 1.5k
warnings: written before the inspo guy totally ruined this concept for me, how very fitting the first title was inspired by that song
summary: your dad made it clear you and eddie weren't allowed to even see each other, let alone talk to each other, eddie takes the risk to come and surprise you on valentines day
previous parts: linger | fleeting
You were frustrated to be at work, it was odd being at another building while someone else was trying to use your system and clear a mess you’d already tried to clean only to be taken away from it before it was done. You got constant calls from your dad, questions which prompted you to drop everything and solve their problems even while not there. More than anything you were back to the realization that this job absolutely sucked, Eddie had been enough of a distraction to help you forget all of that. Your dad declared a strictly no communication order between you and Eddie, he’d found him with a hand on your shoulder, leaning over you to check the booking list and it was like all the little puzzle pieces fell into place and he realized the two of you were actually not just good at working together.
In a perfect world, you’d riot, and rebel against the notion but you knew better, you weren’t supposed to get close to Eddie in the first place, to anyone who works with or for your parents. It made total sense, you knew as much, he reminded you about how being his daughter meant that you weren’t just a girl working with a boy your age and being too friendly about it, you were creating a weakness in the business, and it might seem all nice and dandy for the time being, but people change, motives change.
It was engrained in your head to consider the family, protect the brand, the name, you’d never even looked at any of the other workers too friendly for that very reason, but Eddie snuck up on you. He made you feel your age, made you feel like just a girl who got a crush on a boy who was sweet to her despite herself and what started as you being sure he was just a friend, there was now a little ache in your heart that made you realize it definitely wasn’t the case. With Eddie you felt normal, just a girl, not your parents’ keeper, not the household emotional manager, just a girl who could smile at a boy and shrink instantly when he smiled back at you.
So, you’d survived a week without him, and all the emotions he’d managed to stir up in you and made it all the way to Valentine's Day, a horrendous day in a normal year, an absolute nightmare when your heart felt like it was in mourning. You’d still put on your pretty red dress and put some fresh flowers in your hair and did your makeup all pretty, only now it was only the cleaners and the guests and the little birds that stopped by at lunch that got to see it- not your guy, your Eddie. You had to delete his number just to stop yourself from talking to him, remind yourself to act casually whenever your phone chimed and you thought just maybe he was talking to you instead, had to keep a hand on your leg to stop it from jumping up and down. It got to the point where you were happy to be called to the basement to check on some sort of water leak, at least you wouldn’t have to think about him anymore.
It didn’t help, the road was there too long, you got to thinking about what he’d tell you if he was there, if he’d have been a little cuter on such a day, if he’d already found himself a cute girl to spend the day with instead, wondered if he’d seen your love day post on someone else’s phone.
“Careful,” you thought you’d reached peak desperation when you heard his voice, but your mind wasn’t actually playing tricks on you, because it was actually him who moved you out of harm’s way, one hand on your elbow pulling you from a bunch of paint cans, the other holding onto a single red rose. “What, I leave you alone for one week and you succumb to your terrible ways?” he didn’t make much of a show about handing you the flower, shrugged when your eyes met, and smiled when you sniffed it.
“Eddie,” you wanted to thank him actually, told him how glad you were to see him, wonder out loud if he missed you at all as much as you missed him. “What are you doing here?” his face fell, you didn’t mean for it to, but if someone saw him here, saw him with you, if it got back to your dad your next move would be right out of a job. “If my dad-“
“I know, I know,” he shrugged again, you didn’t like it, he wasn’t wearing his smile nearly as well as he used to, it wasn’t nearly as genuine. “Look, consider it a platonic, strictly professional visit.” Liar. He pulled something from his back pocket, pages folded in half, completely skewed, somehow a perfect representation of him. “I just had to drop off some paperwork for you,” when he opened it you nearly swallowed your tongue, it was one of your short stories, his handwriting in the margins, a bright yellow highlighter used to highlight some parts, you had no idea what to do next.
“Where on earth did you get that?” you gasped, very unladylike when you snapped it from his hand, it was somehow turned into a work of art now, his words and your own, you’d never even allowed anyone to read what you wrote let alone have someone react like this to it.
“I have my ways,” the smile snuck through, the good one, the one that made you gooey. “Listen, I figured if I can’t actually hear your voice I might as well get to hear the next best thing,” he tapped the top of the paper. “You’re really good, you know, don’t know why you’re hiding that from us common folk,” the compliment was completely sincere, but it made you snap back to reality.
“I’m sorry, Eddie,” you caught him off guard, made him waver in his usual ways because you’d never spoken to him like that, so few words but so somber, he’d never been the one to prompt them from you, he hated it. “I didn’t even think about how this could turn into such a big dramatic thing- you were just so easy to be around, to exist with, made me feel so human, so safe- I didn’t think we’d get into so much trouble for it.”
“I’m easy to be around?” he scoffed, leaned back against some stacks of tables, eyes ever dreamy as he looked you over. “Don’t think I’ve felt so comforted just being with someone ever before, warmth literally fills the air around you, if anyone should apologize for not being weary it should be me- should’ve known that being friends with you would be hard enough.”
“A bunch of idiots, we were,” you sighed, and you allowed yourself another moment of selfishness when you went to stand next to him, sighed again when your arms squeezed against each other, braced yourself before resting your head on his shoulder. “First guy I ever liked like this, and you just had to work for my dad and ruin it all.”
“Tell me about it, a guy falls for a girl like you, and she just has to be related to the jerk who signs his checks,” he lingered, paused before he let his hand brush against yours, sighed shakily when he rested his head on top of yours. “Shit, I really liked you, you know.”
“I really did like you too, never expected you’d break my heart before I even had the chance to give it to you,” he wasn’t sure how to reply to that, the thought of being given your heart was absolutely insane, a heart like that, so bruised yet so trusting of all he was, what kind of guy would be lucky enough to have the chance to hold onto it.
“Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart,” he breathed, and you were looking at the rose he’d given you as if you expected something of it, all the answers to your situation, a promise that this wasn’t the end of what could’ve been something so amazing if everything was just so completely different.
“Happy Valentine's Day, Eddie,” you sighed, placed the flower right back into his hand, and reminded yourself that you just had to make it to the bathroom before you’d allow yourself to cry- it represented him so well, so beautiful, so lovely, but you couldn’t let anyone see you with it, couldn’t hold onto it even if you wanted.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x yn#eddie munson angst#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson ff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic
77 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
faethrasher
𝘧𝘢𝘦
prada-ma
prada-man
animejouhou
Anime Jouhou
shamelessmilkshakepanda-blog
Insurance
pyrodawndragon
Long time queer, first time lesbian